Around 


THE 


Tea-Table 


T.  De  Witt  Talmage, 

Author  of  "  Crumbs  Swept  Up,"  "Abominations  of  Modern  Society, 
"  Old  Wells  Dug  Out,"  Etc. 


PUBLISHED  BY 
THTC    CHRISTI^IN'    HEri^T.ID, 

Louis  KlopSCH,  Proprietor, 
BIBLE  HOUSE.  NEW  YORK. 


Copyright  1895. 
By  Louis  Klopsch. 


Press  and  Bindery  of 
HISTORICAL  PUBLISHING  CO., 

PHILADELPHIA. 


PREFACE. 

At  breakfast  we  have  no  time  to  spare,  for  the 
duties  of  the  day  are  clamoring  for  attention ;  at 
the  noon-day  dining  hour  some  of  the  family  are 
absent;  but  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  we  all 
come  to  the  tea-table  for  chit-chat  and  the  recital 
of  adventures.  We  take  our  friends  in  with  us — the 
more  friends,  the  merrier.  You  may  imagine  that 
the  following  chapters  are  things  said  or  conver- 
sations indulged  in,  or  papers  read,  or  paragraphs, 
made  up  from  that  interview.  We  now  open  the 
doors  very  wide  and  invite  all  to  come  in  and  be 
seated  around  the  tea-table. 

T.  DeW.  T. 

Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 


2076080 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I. — The  table-cloth  is  spread  ...        17 
II. — Mr.   Givemfits   and    Dr.    Butter- 
field  23 

III. — A  growler  soothed 27 

IV. — Carlo  and  the  freezer 31 

V. — Old  games  repeated 37 

VI.— The  full-blooded  cow 41 

VII. — The  dregs  in  Leatherbacks'  tea- 
cup     46 

VIII.— The  hot  axle 50 

IX. — Beefsteak  for  ministers 56 

X. — Autobiography  of  an  old  pair  of 

scissors 60 

XI. — A  lie,  zoologically  considered  .    .    65 
XII. — A  breath  of  English   air  ....    70 

XIII. — The  midnight  lecture 74 

XIV.— The  sexton 79 

XV.— The  old  cradle 84 

XVI.— The  horse's  letter 89 

XVII.— Kings  of  the  kennel 94 

XVIII. — The  massacre  of  church  music    .    99 
XIX.— The  battle  of  pew  and  pulpit  .  104 

XX.— The  devil's  grist-mill Ill 

XXI. — The  conductor's  dream 116 

XXII.— Push  &  Pull 121 

XXIII.— Bostonians 125 

13 


14  C07lt€7lts. 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XXIV.— Jonah  vs.  the  whale 129 

XXV. — Something  under  the  sofa    .    .    .  131 
XXVI.— The  way  to  keep  fresh   .        ...  134 

XXVII. —Christmas  bells      137 

XXVIII.— Poor  preaching 139 

XXIX. — Shelves  a  man's  index 142 

XXX.  — Behavior  at  church 147 

XXXI. — Masculine  and  feminine     ....  153 

XXXII.— Literary    felony 156 

XXXIII. — Literary  abstinence 159 

XXXIV. — Short  or  long  pastorates     ....  161 

XXXV. — An  editor's  chip  basket     ....  163 

XXXVI. — The  manhood  of  service    ....  166 

XXXVIL— Balky  people 168 

XXXVIIL— Anonymous  letters 170 

XXXIX. — Brawn  or  brain 174 

XL. — Warm- weather  religion 181 

XLI. — Hiding  eggs  for  Easter 185 

XLIL— Sink  or  swim 190 

XLIIL— Shells  from  the  beach 194 

XLIV. — Catching  the  bay  mare 198 

XLV. — Our  first  and  last  cigar 202 

XLVI. — Move,   moving,  moved 205 

XLVIL— The  advantage  of  small  libraries  .  210 
XLVIIL— Reformation   in  letter  writing    .  215 

XLIX. — Royal  marriages 217 

L.— Three  visits 219 

LI. — Manahachtanienks 224 

LIL— A  dip  in  the  sea 226 

LIII. — Hard  shell  considerations  .    .    .    .230 


Contejtis.  15 

C&KV.  PAGE 

LIV. — Wiseman,      Heavyasbricks     and 

Quizzle 234 

LV.— A  layer  of  waffles 247 

LVI.— Friday  evening 263 

SABBATH  EYEXINGS. 

LVIL— The  Sabbath  evening  tea-table   .  271 
LVIIL— The  warm  heart  of  Christ  ....  273 

LIX. — Sacrifice  everything 277 

LX.— The  youngsters  have  left  ....  280 

LXI. — Family  prayers 291 

LXIL— A  call  to  sailors 295 

LXIII.—Jehoshaphat's  shipping 298 

LXIV.— All  about  mercy 303 

LXV.— Vnder  the  camel's  saddle  ....  308 

LXVL— Half-and-half  churches 314 

LXVII.— Thorns     317 

LXVHL— Who  touched  me?      320 


AROUND  THE  TEA-TABLE. 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  TABLE-CLOTH  IS  SPKEAD. 

Our  theory  has  always  been,  "Eat  lightly  in 
the  evening!"  While,  therefore,  morning  and 
noon  there  is  bountif  ulness,  we  do  not  have  much 
on  our  tea-table  but  dishes  and  talk.  The  most 
of  the  world's  work  ought  to  be  finished  by  six 
o'clock  p.  m.  The  children  are  home  from  school. 
The  wife  is  done  mending  or  shopping.  The 
merchant  has  got  through  with  drygoods  or  hard- 
ware. Let  the  ring  of  the  tea-bell  be  sharp  and 
musical.  Walk  into  the  room  fragrant  with  Oolong 
or  Young  Hyson.  Seat  yourself  at  the  tea-table 
wide  enough  apart  to  have  room  to  take  out  your 
pocket-handkerchief  if  you  want  to  cry  at  any 
pitiful  story  of  the  day,'  or  to  spread  yourself  in 
laughter  if  some  one'  propound  an  irresistible 
conundrum. 

The  bottle  rules  the  sensual  world,  but  the  tea- 
cup is  queen  in  all  the  fair  dominions.  Once  this 
leaf  was  very  rare,  and  fifty  dollars  a  pound ;  and 
when  the  East  India  Company  made  a  present  to 
the  king  of  two  pounds  and  two  ounces,  it  was 
considered  worth  a  mark  in  history.  But  now 
Uncle  Sam  and  his  wife  every  year  pour  thirty 
million  pounds  of  it  into  their  saucers.  Twelve 
17 


i8  Arou7id  the  Tea-table. 

hnndrerl  years  ago,  a  Chinese  scholar  by  the  name 
of  Lo  Yii  wrote  of  tea,  *'It  tempers  the  spirits 
and  harmonizes  the  mind,  dispels  lassitude  and 
relieves  fatigue,  awakens  thought  and  prevents 
drowsiness,  lightens  and  refreshes  the  body,  and 
clears  the  perceptive  faculties."  Our  own  obser- 
vation is  that  there  is  nothing  that  so  loosens  the 
hinge  of  the  tongue,  soothes  the  temper,  exhil- 
arates the  diaphragm,  kindles  sociality  and  makes 
the  future  promising.  Like  one  of  the  small 
glasses  in  the  wall  of  Barnum's  old  museum, 
through  which  you  could  see  cities  and  mountains 
bathed  in  sunshine,  so,  as  you  drink  from  the 
tea-cup,  and  get  on  toward  the  bottom  so  that  it 
is  sufficiently  elevated,  you  can  see  almost  any- 
thing glorious  that  you  want  to.  We  had  a  great- 
aunt  who  used  to  come  from  town  with  the 
pockets  of  her  bombazine  dress  standing  way  out 
with  nice  things  for  the  children,  but  she  would 
come  in  looking  black  as  a  thunder  cloud  until 
she  had  got  through  with  her  first  cup  of  tea, 
when  she  would  empty  her  right  pocket  of  sugar- 
plums, and  having  finished  her  second  cupwould 
empty  the  other  pocket,  and  after  she  had  taken 
an  extra  third  cup,  because  she  felt  so  very  chilly, 
it  took  all  the  sitting-room  and  parlor  and  kitchen 
to  contain  her  exhilaration. 

Be  not  surprised  if,  after  your  friends  are  seated 
at  the  table,  the  style  of  the  conversation  depends 
very  much  on  the  "kind  of  tea  that  the  housewife 
pours  for  the  guests.  If  it  be  genuine  Young 
Hyson  ,the  leaves  of  which  are  gathered  early  in 
the  season,  the  talk  will  be  fresh,  and  spirited, 
and  sunshiny.  If  it  be  what  the  Chinese  call 
Pearl  tea,  but  our  merchants  have  named  Gun- 
powder, the  conversation  will  be  explosive,  and 
somebody's  reputation  will  be  killed  before  you 
get  through.  If  it  be  green  tea,  prepared  by  large 
infusion  of  Prussian   blue  and   gypsum,  or  black 


The  Table-cloth  is  Spread.  19 

tea  mixed  with  pulverized  black  lead,  you  may- 
expect  there  will  be  a  poisonous  effect  in  the 
conversation  and  the  moral  health  damaged.  The 
English  Parliament  found  that  there  had  come 
into  that  country  two  million  pounds  of  wnat  the 
merchants  call  * '  lie  tea, ' '  and,  as  far  as  I  can 
estimate,  about  the  same  amount  has  been  im- 
ported into  the  United  States ;  and  when  the 
housewife  pours  into  the  cups  of  her  guests  a  decoc- 
tion of  this  "lie  tea,"  the  group  are  sure  to  fall 
to  talking  about  their  neighbors,  and  misrepre- 
senting everything  they  touch.  One  meeting  of 
a  ''sewing  society"  up  in  Canada,  where  this  tea 
was  served,  resulted  in  two  law-suits  for  slander, 
four  black  eyes  that  were  not  originally  of  that 
color,  the  expulsion  of  the  minister,  and  the 
abrupt  removal  from  the  top  of  the  sexton's  head 
of  all  capillary  adornment. 

But  on  our  tea-table  we  will  have  first-rate- 
Ningyong,  or  Pouchong,  or  Souchong,  or  Oolong, 
so  that  the  conversation  may  be  pure  and 
healthy. 

We  propose  from  time  to  time  to  report  some  of 
the  talk  of  our  visitors  at  the  tea-table.  We  do- 
not  entertain  at  tea  many  very  great  men.  The 
fact  is  that  gi-eat  men  at  tlie  tea-table  for  the  most 
part  are  a  bore.  They  are  apt  to  be  self-absorbed, 
or  so  profound  I  cannot  understand  them,  or 
analytical  of  food,  or  nervous  from  having  studied 
themselves  half  to  death,  or  exhume  a  piece  of 
brown  bread  from  their  coat-tail  because  they  are 
dyspeptic,  or  make  such  solemn  remarks  about 
hydro-benzamide  or  sulphindigotic  acid  that  the 
children  get  frightened  and  burst  out  crying, 
thinking  something  dreadful  is  going  to  happen. 
Learned  Johnson,  splashing  his  pompous  wit  over 
the  table  for  Boswell  to  pick  up,  must  have  been 
a  sublime  nuisance.  It  was  said  of  Goldsmith 
that  ' '  he  wrote  like  an  angel  and  talked  like  poor 


20  Aj'oiind  the  Tea-table. 

Poll. ' '  There  is  more  interest  in  the  dining- 
room  when  we  have  ordinary  people  than  when 
we  have  extraordinary. 

There  are  men  an(i  women  who  occasionally 
meet  at  our  tea-table  whose  portraits  are  worth 
taking.  There  are  Dr.  Buttertield,  Mr.  Givem- 
fits,  Dr.  Heavyasbricks,  Miss  Smiley  and  Miss 
Stinger,  who  come  to  see  us.  We  expect  to  invite 
them  all  to  tea  very  soon ;  and  as  you  will  in 
future  hear  of  their 'talk,  it  is  better  that  I  tell 
you  now  some  of  their  characteristics. 

Dr.  Buttertield  is  one  of  our  most  welcome 
A'-isitors  at  the  tea-table.  As  his  name  indicates, 
he  is  both  melting  and  beautiful.  He  always 
takes  pleasant  views  of  things.  He  likes  his  tea 
sweet;  and  after  his  cup  is  passed  to  him,  he 
frequently  hands  it  back,  and  sa5'S,  "This  is 
really  delightful,  but  a  little  more  sugar,  if  you 
please. ' '  He  has  a  mellowing  effect  upon  the 
whole  company.  After  hearing  him  talk  a  little 
while,  I  find  tears  standing  in  my  eyes  without 
any  sufficient  reason.  It  is  almost  as  good  as  a 
sermon  to  see  him  wipe  his  mouth  with  a  napkin. 
I  would  not  want  him  all  alone  to  tea,  because  it 
would  be  making  a  meal  of  sweetmeats.  But 
when  he  is  present  with  others  of  different  tem- 
perament, he  is  entertaining.  He  always  reminds 
me  of  the  dessert  called  floating  island,  beaten 
■egg  on  custard.  On  all  subjects — political,  social 
and  religious — he  takes  the  smooth  side.  He  is 
a  minister,  and  preached  a  course  of  fifty-one  ser- 
mons on  heaven  in  one  year,  saying  that  he 
would  preach  on  the  last  and  fifty-second  Sunday 
concerning  a  place  of  quite  opposite  character; 
but  the  audience  assembling  on  that  day,  in 
August,  he  rose  and  said  that  it  was  too  hot  to 
preach,  and  so  dismissed  them  immediately  with 
a  benediction.  At  the  tea-table  I  never  could 
persuade   him  to   take  any  currant-jelly,  for  he 


The  Table-dot li  is  Spread.  21 

always    preferred     strawberry -jam.     He    rejects 
acidity. 

We  generally  place  opposite  him  at  the  tea-table 
Mr.  Givemfits.  He  is  the  very  antipodes  of  Dr. 
Butterfield;  and  when  the  two  talk,  you  get  both 
sides  of  a  subject.  I  have  to  laugh  to  hear  them 
talk ;  and  my  little  girl,  at  the  controversial  col- 
lisions, gets  into  such  hysterics  that  we  have  to 
send  her  with  her  mouth  full  into  the  next  room, 
to  be  pounded  on  the  back  to  stop  her  from  chok- 
ing. My  friend  Givemfits  is  "down  on"  almost 
everything  but  tea,  and  I  think  one  reason  of  his 
nervous,  sharp,  petulant  way  is  that  he  takes  too 
much  of  this  beverage.  He  thinks  the  world  is 
very  soon  coming  to  an  end,  and  says,  "The 
sooner  the  better,  confound  it  I"  He  is  a  literary 
man,  a  newspaper  writer,  a  book  critic,  and  so 
on ;  but  if  he  were  a  minister,  he  would  preach  a 
course  of  fifty-one  sermons  on  "future  punish- 
ment, ' '  proposing  to  preach  the  fifty-second  and 
last  Sabbath  on  "future  rewards;"' but  the  last 
Sabbath,  coming  in  December,  he  would  say  to 
his  audience,  "Really,  it  is  too  cold  to  preach. 
We  will  close  with  t"he  doxology  and  omit  the 
benediction,  as  I  must  go  down '  by  the  stove  to 
warm. ' ' 

He  does  not  like  women — thinks  they  are  of  no 
use  in  the  world,  save  to  set  the  tea  a-drawing. 
Says  there  was  no  trouble  in  Paradise  till  a  female 
came  there,  and  that  ever  since  Adam  lost  the  rib 
woman  has  been  to  man  a  bad  pain  in  the  side. 
He  thinks  that  Dr.  Butterfield,  who  sits  opposite 
him  at  the  tea-table,  is  something  of  a  hypocrite, 
and  asks  him  all  sorts  of  puzzling  questions.  The 
fact  is,  it  is  vinegar-cruet  against  sugar-bowl  in 
perpetual  controversy.  I  do  not  blame  Givemfits 
as  much  as  many  do.  His  digestion  is  poor.  The 
chills  and  fever  enlarged  his  spleen.  He  has 
frequent  attacks  of  neuralgia.     Once  a  week  he 


22  Around  the  Tea-table. 

has  the  sick  headache.  His  liver  is  out  of  order. 
He  has  twinges  of  rheumatism.  Nothing  he  ever 
takes  agrees  with  him  but  tea,  and  that  doesn't. 
He  has  had  a  good  deal  of  trial,  and  the  thunder 
of  trouble  has  soured  the  milk  of  human  kind- 
ness. When  he  gets  criticising  Dr.  Butterfield's 
sermons  and  books,  I  have  sometimes  to  pretend 
that  I  hear  somebody  at  the  front  door,  so  that  I 
can  go  out  in  the  hall  and  have  an  uproarious 
laugh  without  being  indecorous.  It  is  one  of  the 
great  amusements  of  my  life  to  have  on  opposite 
sides  of  my  tea-table  Dr.  Butterfield  and  Mr. 
Givemfits. 

But  we  have  many  others  who  come  to  our  tea- 
table:  Miss  Smiley,  w^ho  often  runs  in  about  six 
o'clock.  All  sweetness  is  Miss  Smiley.  She 
seems  to  like  everj^body,  and  everybody  seems 
to  like  her.  Also  Miss  Stinger,  sharp  as  a'hornet, 
prides  herself  on  saying  things  that  cut ;  dislikes 
men ;  cannot  bear  the  sight  of  a  pair  of  boots ; 
loathes  a  shaving  apparatus ;  thinks  Eve  would 
have  shown  better  capacity  for  housekeeping  if 
she  had,  the  tirst  time  she  used  her  broom,  swept 
Adam  out  of  Paradise.  Besides  these  ladies, 
many  good,  bright,  useful  and  sensible  people  of 
all  kinds.  In  a  few  days  we  shall  invite  a  group 
of  them  to  tea,  and  you  shall  hear  some  of  their 
discussions  of  men  and  books  and  things.  We 
shall  order  a  canister  of  the  best  Young  Hyson, 
pull  out  the  extension-table,  hang  on  the  kettle, 
stir  the  blaze,  and  with  chamois  and  silver- 
powder  scour  up  the  tea-set  that  we  never  use  save 
when  we  have  company. 


CHAPTER  II. 
MR.  GIVEMFITS   AND   DR.    BUTTERFIELD. 

The  tea-kettle  never  nang  a  sweeter  song  than  on 
the  evening  I  speak  of.  It  evidently  knew  that 
company  was  coming.  At  the  appointed  time  our 
two  friends,  Dr.  Butterfield  and  Mr.  Givemfits, 
arrived.  A s  already  i ntimated,  they  were  opposi te 
in  temperament — the  former  mild,  mellow,  fat, 
good-natured  and  of  fine  digestion,  always  seeing 
the  bright  side  of  anything;  the  other,  splenetic, 
harsh,  and  when  he  swallowed  anything  was  not 
sure  whether  he  would  be  the  death  of  it,  or  it 
would  be  the  death  of  him. 

Xo  sooner  had  they  taken  their  places  opposite 
each  other  at  the  table  than  conversation  opened. 
As  my  wife  was  handing  the  tea  over  to  Mr. 
Givemfits  the  latter  broke  out  in  a  tirade  against 
the  weather.  He  said  that  this  winter  was  the 
most  unbearable  that  had  ever  been  known  in  the 
almanacs.  When  it  did  not  rain,  it  snowed  ;  and 
when  it  was  not  mud,  it  was  sleet.  At  this  point 
he  turned  around  and  coughed  violently,  and  said 
that  in  such  atmosphere  it  was  impossible  to  keep 
clear  of  colds.  He  thought  he  would  go  South. 
He  would  rather  not  live  at  all  than  live  in  such 
a  climate  as  this.  No  chance  here,  save  for  doc- 
tors and  undertakers,  and  even  they  have  to  take 
their  own  medicines  and  lie  in  their  own  coffins. 
At  this  Dr.  Butterfield  gave  a  good-natured  laugh, 
and  said,  "I  admit  the  inconveniences  of  the 
weather;  but  are  you  not  aware  that  there  has 
been  a  drought  for  three  years  in  the  country, 
and  great  suffering  in  the  land  for  lack  of  rain? 
We  need  all  this  wet  weather  to  make  an  equi- 

23 


24 


Around  the  Tea-table. 


librium.  What  is  discomfort  to  3^ou  is  the  wealth 
of  the  land.  Besides  that,  I  find  that  if  I  cannot 
get  sunshine  in  the  open  air  I  can  carry  it  in  the 
crown  of  my  hat.  He  who  has  a  warm  coat,  and 
a  full  stove,'  and  a  comfortable  house,  ought  not 
to  spend  much  of  his  time  in  complaint. ' ' 

Miss  Smiley  slid  this  moment  into  the  conver- 
sation with  'a  hearty  "Ha!  ha!"  She  said, 
"This  last  winter  has  been  the  happiest  of  my 
life.  I  never  hear  the  winds  gallop  but  I  want  to 
join  them.  The  snow  is  only  the  winter  in. 
blossom.  Instead  of  here  and  there  on  the  pond, 
the  whole  country  is  covered  with  white  lilies.  I 
have  seen  gracefulness  enough  in  the  curve  of  a. 
snowdrift  to  keep  me  in  admiration  for  a  week. 
Do  you  remember  that  morning  after  the  storm 
of  sleet,  when  every  tree  stood  in  mail  of  ice, 
with  drawn  sword  of  icicle?  Besides,  I  think 
the  winter  drives  us  in,  and  drives  us  together. 
We  have  never  had  such  a  time  at  our  house  with 
checker-boards  and  dominoes,  and  blind-man's- 
buff,  and  the  piano,  as  this  winter.  Father  and 
mother  said  it  seemed  to  them  like  getting  mar- 
ried over  again.  Besides  that,  on  nights  when 
the  storm  was  so  gi'eat  that  the  door-bell  went  to 
bed  and  slept  soundly,  Charles  Dickens  stepped  in 
from  Gad's  Hill;  and  Henry  W.  Longfellow, 
without  knocking,  entered  the  sitting-room,  his 
hair  white  as  if  he  had  walked  through  the  snow 
with  his  hat  ofi" ;  and  William  H.  Prescott,  with 
his  eyesight  restored,  happened  in  from  Mexico, 
a  cactus  in  his  buttonhole ;  and  Audubon  set 
a  cage  of  birds  on  the  table — Baltimore  oriole, 
chaffinch,  starling  and  bobolink  doing  their 
prettiest ;  and  Christopher  North  thumped  hia 
gun  down  on  the  hall  floor,  and  hung  his  'sport- 
ing jacket'  on  the  hat-rack,  and  shook  the  carpet 
brown  with  Highland  heather.  As  Walter  Scott 
came  in  his  dog  scampered  in  after  him,  and  put 


Mr.  Givc77ifits  a?id  Dr.  Butterfie/d.      2$ 

l&oth  paws  lip  on  the  marhle-top  table ;  and  ]Min- 
nie  asked  the  old  man  why  he  did  not  part  his 
hair  better,  instead  of  letting  it  hang  all  over  his 
forehead,  and  he  apologized  for  it  Idv  the  fact 
that  he  had  been  on  a  long  tramp  from  Melrose 
Abbey  to  Kenilworth  Castle.  But  I  think  as 
thrilling  an  evening  as  we  had  this  winter  was 
■with  a  man  who  walked  in  with  a  prison-jacket^ 
his  shoes  mouldy,  and  his  cheek  pallid  for  th^ 
want  of  the  sunlight.  He  was  so  tired  that  he 
went  immediately  to  sleep.  He  would  not  take 
the  sofa,  saying  he  was  not  used  to  that,  but 
he  stretched'  himself  on  the  floor  and  put  his 
head  on  an  ottoman.  At  first  he  snored  dread- 
fully, and  it  was  evident  he  had  a  horrid  dream ; 
but  after  a  while  he  got  easier,  and  a  smile 
came  over  his  face,  and  he  woke  himself  sing- 
ing and  shouting.  I  said,  'What  is  the  mat- 
ter with  you,  and  what  were  you  dreaming 
about?'  'Well,'  he  said,  'the  bad  dream  I  had 
was  about  the  City  of  Destruction,  and  the  happy 
dream  was  about  the  Celestial  City;'  and  we  all 
knew  him  right  away,  and  shouted,  'Glorious  old 
John  Bunya'nl  How  is  Christiana?'  So,  you 
eee, "  said 'Miss  Smiley,  "on  stormy  nights  we 
really  have  a  pleasanter  time  than  when  the  moon 
and  stars  are  reigning. ' ' 

Miss  Stinger  had  sat  quietly  looking  into  her 
tea-cup  until  this  moment,  when  she  clashed  her 
spoon  into  the  saucei.  and  said,  "If  there  is  any 
thing  I  dislike,  it  is  an  attempt  at  poetry  when 
you  can't  do  it.  I  know  some  people  who  always 
try  to  show  themselves  in  public;  but  when  they 
are  home,  they  never  have  their  collar  on  straight, 
and  in  the  morning  look  like  a  whirlwind  break- 
fasting on  a  haystack.  As  for  me,  I  am  practical, 
and  winter  is  winter,  and  sleet  is  sleet,  and  ice 
is  ice.  and  a  tea-cup  is  a  tea-cup;  and  if  you  will 
pass  mine  up  to  the  hostess  to  be  resupplied,  I 


26  Aroiuid  the  Tea-table, 

will  like  it  a  great  deal  better  than  all  this  senti- 
mentalism.  No  sweetening,  if  you  please.  I  do 
not  like  things  sweet.  Do  not  put  in  any  of  your 
beautiful  snow  for  sugar,  nor  stir  it  with  an 
icicle." 

This  sudden  jerk  in  the  conversation  snapi)ed 
it  off,  and  for  a  moment  there  was  quiet.  ^  I  knew 
not  how  to  get  conversation  started  again.  Our 
usual  way  is  to  talk  about  the  w^eather ;  but  that 
subject  had  been  already  exhausted. 

Suddenly  I  saw  the  color  for  the  first  time  in 
years  come  into  the  face  of  Mr.  Givemfits.  The 
fact  was  that,  in  biting  a  hard  crust  of  bread,  he 
had  struck  a  sore  tooth  which  had  been  troubling 
him,  and  he  broke  out  with  the  exclamation, 
''Dr.  Butterfield,  the  physical  and  moral  world  is 
degenerating.  Things  get  worse  and  worse.  Look, 
for  instance,  at  the  tone  of  many  of  the  news- 
papers ;  gossip,  abuse,  lies,  blackmail,  make  up 
the  chief  part  of  them,  and  useful  intelligence  is 
the  exception.  The  public  have  more  interest  in 
murders  and  steamboat  explosions  than  in  the 
items  of  mental  and  spiritual  progress.  Church 
and  State  are  covered  up  with  newspaper  mud. ' ' 

' ' Stop ! ' '  said  Dr.  Butterfield.  * ' Don't  you  ever 
buy  newspapers?" 


CHAPTER  III. 
A  GROWLER  SOOTHED. 

Givemfits  said  to  Dr.  Butterfield,  **You  asked 
me  last  evening  if  I  ever  bought  newspapers.  I 
reply,  Yes,  and  write  for  them  too. 

"But  I  see  their  degeneracy.  Once  you  could 
believe  nearly  all  they  said ;  now  he  is  a  fool 
who  believes  a  tenth  part  of  it.  There  is  the 
New  York  *  Scandalmonger, '  and  the  Philadel- 
phia *  Prestidigitateur, '  and  the  Boston  *  Prolific, ' 
which  do  nothing  but  hoodwink  and  confound 
the  public  mind.  Ten  dollars  will  get  a  favor- 
able report  of  a  meeting,  or  as  much  w^ill  get  it 
caricatured.  There  is  a  secret  spring  behind 
almost  every  column.  It  depends  on  what  the 
editor  had  for  supper  the  night  before  w^hether 
he  wants  Foster  hung  or  his  sentence  commuted. 
If  the  literary  man  had  toast  and  tea,  as  weak  as 
this  before  me,  he  sleeps  soundly,  and  next  day 
says  in  his  columns  that  Foster  ought  not  to  be 
executed ;  he  is  a  good  fellow,  and  the  clergymen 
who  went  to  Albany  to  get  him  pardoned  were 
engaged  in  a  holy  calling,  and  their  congregations 
had  better  hold  fast  of  them  lest  they  go  up  like 
Elijah.  But  if  the  editor  had  a  supper  at  eleven 
o'clock  at  night  of  scallops  fried  in  poor  lard, 
and  a  little  too  much  bourbon,  the  next  day  he 
is  headachy,  and  says  Foster,  the  scalawag,  ought 
to  be  hung,  or  beaten  to  death  w4th  his  own  car- 
nook,  and  the  ministers  who  went  to  Albany  to 
•^et  him  pardoned  might  better  have  been  taking 
tea  with  some  of  the  old  ladies.  I  have  been  be- 
hind the  scenes  and  know  all' about  it,  and  must 
admit  that  I  have  done  some  of  the  bad  work 

27 


28  Around  the  Tea-table. 

myself.  I  have  on  my  writing-stand  thirty  or 
forty  books  to  discuss  as  a  critic,  and  the  column 
must  be  made  up.  Do  you  think  I  take  time  to 
read  the  thirty  or  forty  books?  Xo.  I  first  take 
a  dive  into  the  index,  a  second  dive  into  the 
preface,  a  third  dive  into  the  four  hundredth 
page,  the  fourth  dive  into  the  seventieth  page, 
and  then  seize  my  pen  and  do  up  the  whole  job 
in  fifteen  minutes.  I  make  up  my  mind  to  like 
the  book  or  not  to  like  it,  according  as  I  admire 
or  despise  the  author.  But  the  leniency  or  severity 
of  my  article  depends  on  whether  the  room  is 
cold  and  my  rheumatism  that  day  is  sharp  or 
easy.  Speaking  of  these  things  reminds  me  that 
the  sermon  which  the  Right  Reverend  Bishop 
Goodenough  preached  last  Sunday,  on  '  Growth  in 
Grace, '  was  taken  down  and  brought  to  our  office 
by  a  reporter  who  fell  over  the  door-sill  of  the 
sanctum  so  drunk  we  had  to  help  him  up  and 
fish  in  his  pockets  for  the  bishop's  sermon  on 
holiness  of  heart  and  life,  which  we  were  sure 
was  somewhere  about  him. ' ' 

"  Tut !  tut ! ' '  cried  Dr.  Butterfield.  ' '  I  think, 
Mr.  Givemfits,  you  are  entirely  mistaken.  (The 
doctor  all  the  while  stirring  the  sugar  in  his  cup. ) 
I  think  the  printing-press  is  a  mighty  agency 
for  the  world's  betterment.  If  I  were  not  'a 
minister,  I  would  be  an  editor.  There  are  Bohem- 
ians in  the  newspaper  profession,  as  in  all  others, 
but  do  not  denounce  the  entire  apostleship  for  the 
sake  of  one  Judas.  Reporters,  as  I  know  them, 
are  clever  fellows,  worked  almost  to  death,  com- 
pelled to  keep  unseasonable  hours,  and  have  temp- 
tations to  fight  whichfew other  occupations  endure. 
Considering  the  blunders  and  indistinctness  of 
the  public  speaker,  I  think  they  get  things  won- 
derfully accurate.  The  speaker  murders  the  king's 
English,  and  is  mad  because  the  reporter  cannot 
resuscitate  the  corpse.     I  once  made  a  speech  at 


A  Groiider  Soothed.  29 

an  ice-cream  festival  amid  great  embarraasments, 
and  hemmed,  and  hawed,  and  expectorated  cotton 
from  my  dry  mouth,  and  sweat  like  a  Turkish 
bath,  the  adjectives,  and  the  nouns,  and  verbs, 
and  prepositions  of  my  address  keeping  an  Irish 
wake;  but  the  next  day,  in  the  'Johnstown 
Advocate, '  my  remarks  read  as  gracefully  as 
Addison's  'Spectator.'  I  knew  a  phonographer 
in  Washington  whose  entire  business  it  was  to 
weed  out  from  Congressmen's  speeches  the  sins 
against  Anglo-Saxon  ;  but  the  work  was  too  much 
for  him,  and  he  died  of  delirium  tremens,  from 
having  drank  too  much  of  the  wine  of  syntax,  in 
his  ravings  imagining  that  'interrogations'  WT:'re 
crawling  over  him  like  snakes,  and  that  'ini-er- 
jections'  were  thrusting  him  through  with  daggers 
and  'periods'  struck  him  like  bullets,  and  his 
body  seemed  torn  apart  by  disjunctive  conjunc- 
tions. Xo,  Mr.  Givemfits,  you  are  too  hard.  And 
as  to  the  book-critics  whom  you  condemn,  they 
do  more  for  the  circulation  of  books  than  any  other 
class,  especially  if  they  denounce  and  caricature,  for 
then  human  nature  will  see  the  book  at  any  price. 
After  I  had  published  my  book  on  'The  Philoso- 
phy of  Civilization, '  it  was  so  badgered  by  the 
critics  and  called  so  many  hard  names  that  my 
publishers  could  not  print 'it  fast  enough  to  meet 
the  demands  of  the  curious.  Besides,  what  would 
we  do  without  the  newspaper?  With  the  iron 
rake  of  the  telegraph  it  draws  the  whole  world  to 
our  door  every  morning.  The  sermon  that  the 
minister  preached  to  five  hundred  people  on  Sab- 
bath the  newspaper  next  day  preaches  to  fifty 
thousand.  It  takes  the  verses  which  the  poet 
chimed  in  his  small  room  of  ten  feet  by  six,  and 
rings  them  into  the  ears  of  the  continent.  The 
cylinder  of  the  printing-press  is  to  be  one  of  the 
■wheels  of  the  Lord's  chariot.  The  good  news- 
paf>ers   will    overcome   the   bad    ones,    and    the 


30  Around  the  Tea-table. 

honey-bees  will  outnumber  the  hornets.  Instead 
of  the  three  or  four  religions  newspapers  that 
once  lived  on  gruel  and  pap,  sitting  down  once  a 
Aveek  on  some  good  man's  door-step  to  rest,  thank- 
ful if  not  kicked  oif ,  now  many  of  the  denomina- 
tions have  stalwart  journals '  that  SM^ing  their 
scythe  through  the  sins  of  the  world,  and  are 
avant  couriers  of  the  Lord's  coming." 

As  Dr.  Butterfield  concluded  this  sentence  his 
face  shone  like  a  harvest  moon.  We  had  all 
dropped  our  knives,  and  were  looking  at  him. 
The  Young  Hyson  tea  was  having  its  mollifying 
effect  on  the  whole  company.  Mr.  Givemtits  had 
made  way  with  his  fourth  cup  (they  were  small 
cups,  the  set  we  use  for  company),  and  he  was 
entirely  soothed  and  moderated  in  his  opinions 
about  everything,  and  actually  clapped  his  hands 
at  Dr.  Butterfield's  peroration.  Even  Miss  Stinger 
was  in  a  glow,  for  she  had  drank  large  quantities 
of  the  fragrant  beverage  while  piping  hot,  and  in 
her  delight  she  took  Givemfits'  arm,  and  asked 
him  if  he  ever  meant  to  get  married.  Miss  Smiley 
smiled.  Then  Dr.  Butterfield  lifted  his  cup,  anil 
proposed  a  toast  which  we  all  drank  standing: 
"The  mission  of  the  printing-press  I  The  salubrity 
of  the  climate !  The  prospects  ahead !  The  won- 
ders of  Oolong  and  Young  Hyson ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  IV. 
CAELO  AND  THE  FREEZER. 

We  had  a  jolly  time  at  our  tea-table  this  even- 
ing. We  had  not  seen  our  old  friend  for  ten 
years.  When  I  heard  his  voice  in  the  hall,  it 
seemed  like  a  snatch  of  "Auld  Lang  Syne."  He 
came  from  Belleville,  where  was  the  first  home 
we  ever  set  up  for  ourselves.  It  was  a  stormy 
evening,  and  we  did  not  expect  company,  but  we 
soon  made  way  for  him  at  the  talkie.  Jennie  was 
very  willing  to  stand  up  at  the  corner ;  and  after 
a  fair  napkin  had  been  thrown  over  the  place 
where  she  had  dropped  a  speck  of  jelly,  our 
friend  and  I  began  the  rehearsal  of  other  days. 
While  I  was  alluding  to  a  circumstance  that 
occurred  between  me  and  one  of  my  Belleville 
neighbors  the  children  cried  out  with  stentorian 
voice,  "Tell  us  about  Carlo  and  the  freezer;" 
and  they  kicked  the  leg  of  the  table,  and  beat 
•with  both  hands,  and  clattered  the  knives  on  the 
plate,  until  I  was  compelled  to  shout,  "Silence! 
You  act  like  a  band  of  Arabs !  Frank,  you  had 
better  swallow  what  you  have  in  your  mouth 
before  you  attempt  to  talk. ' '  Order  having  been 
gained,  I  began : 

We  sat  in  the  country  parsonage,  on  a  cold 
winter  day,  looking  out  of  our  back  window 
toward  the  house  of  a  neighbor.  She  was  a  model 
of  kindness,  and  a  most  convenient  neighbor  to 
have.  It  was  a  rule  between  us  that  when  either 
house  was  in  want  of  anything  it  should  borrow 
of  the  other.  The  rule  worked  well  for  the  par- 
sonage, but  rather  badly  for  the  neighbor,  because 
on  our  side  of  the  fence  we  had  just  begun  to 

31 


32  Around  the  Tea-table. 

keep  house,  and  needed  to  borrow  everything, 
while  we  had  nothing  to  lend,  except  a  few  ser- 
mons, which  the  neighbor  never  tried  to  borrow, 
from  the  fact  that  she  had  enough  of  them  on 
Sundays.  There  is  no  danger  that  your  neighbor 
will  burn  a  hole  in  your  new  brass  kettle  if  you 
have  none  to  lend.  It  will  excite  no  surprise  to 
say  that  we  had  an  interest  in  all  that  happened 
on  the  other  side  of  the  parsonage  fence,  and  that 
any  injury  inflicted  on  so  kind  a  woman  would 
rouse  our  sympathy. 

On  the  wintry  morning  of  which  we  speak  our 
neighbor  had  been  making  ice-cream  ;  but  there 
being  some  defect  in  the  machinery,  the  cream 
had  not  sufficiently  congealed,  and  so  she  set  the 
can  of  the  freezer  containing  the  luxury  on  her 
back  steps,  expecting  the  cold  air  would  com- 
pletely harden  it.  What  was  our  dismay  to  see 
that  our  dog  Carlo,  on  whose  early  education  we 
were  expending  great  care,  had  taken  upon  him- 
self the  office  of  ice-cream  inspector,  and  was 
actually  busy  with  the  freezer !  We  hoisted  the 
window  and  shouted  at  him,  but  his  mind  was  so 
absorbed  in  his  undertaking  he  did  not  stop  to 
listen.  Carlo  was  a  greyhound,  thin,  gaunt  and 
long-nosed,  and  he  M'as  already  making  his  way 
on  down  toward  the  bottom  of  the  can.  His  eyes 
and  all  his  head  had  disappeared  in  the  depths 
of  the  freezer.  Indeed,  he  was  so  far  submerged 
that  when  he  heard  us,  with  quick  and  infuriate 
pace,  coming  up  close  behind  him,  he  could  not 

fet  his  head  out,  and  so  started  with  the  encum- 
rance  on  his  head,  in  what  direction  he  knew 
not.  No  dog  was  ever  in  a  more  embarrassing 
position — freezer  to  the  right  of  him,  freezer  to 
the  left  of  him,  freezer  on  the  top  of  him,  freezer 
under  him. 

So,  thoroughly  blinded,  he  rushed  against  the 
fencf    then  against  the  side  of  tiie  house,  thea 


Carlo  ayid  the  Freezer.  33 

against  a  tree.  He  barked  as  though  he  thought 
he  might  explode  the  nuisance  with  loud  sound, 
but  the  sound  was  confined  in  so  strange  a  speak- 
ing-trumpet that  he  could  not  have  known  his 
own  voice.  His  way  seemed  hedged  up.  Fright 
and  anger  and  remorse  and  shame  whirled  him 
about  without  mercy. 

A  feeling  of  mirthfulness,  which  sometimes 
takes  me  on  most  inappropriate  occasions,  seized 
me,  and  I  sat  down  on  the  ground,  powerless  at 
the  moment  when  Carlo  most  needed  help.  If  I 
only  could  have  got  near  enough,  I  would  have 
put'  my  foot  on  the  freezer,  and,  taking  hold  of 
the  dog's  tail,  dislodged  him  instantly;  but  this  I 
w^as  not  permitted  to  do.  At  this  stage  of  the 
disaster  my  neighbor  appeared  with  a  look  of 
consternation,  her  cap-strings  flying  in  the  cold 
wind.  I  tried  to  explain,  but  the  aforesaid  un- 
timely hilarity  hindered  me.  All  I  could  do  was 
to  point  at  the  flying  freezer  and  the  adjoining 
dog  and  ask  her  to  call  ofi"  her  freezer,  and,  with 
assumed  indignation,  demand  what  she  meant  by 
trying  to  kill  my  greyhound. 

The  poor  dog's  every  attempt  at  escape  only 
wedged  himself  more  thoroughly  fast.  But  after 
II  while,  in  time  to  save  the  dog,  though  not  to 
save  the  ice-cream,  my  neighbor  and  myself 
effected  a  rescue.  Edwin  Landseer,  the  great 
painter  of  dogs  and  their  friends,  missed  his  best 
chance  by  not  being  there  when  the  parishioner 
took  hold  of  the  freezer  and  the  pastor  seized  the 
dog's  tail,  and,  pulling  mightily  in  opposite 
directions,  they  each  got  possession  of  their  own 
property. 

Carlo  was  cured  of  his  love  for  luxuries,  and 
the  sight  of  the  freezer  on  the  back  steps  till  the 
day  of  his  death  would  send  him  howling  away. 

Carlo  found,  as  many  people  have  found,  that 
it  is  easier  to  get  into  trouble  than  to  get  out. 


34  Aruiind  the  Tea- fable. 

Nothing  could  be  more  delicious  than  while  h€ 
was  eating  his  way  in,  but  what  must  have  been 
his  feelings  when  he  found  it  impossible  to  get 
out !  While  he  was  stealing  the  freezer  the  freezer 
rtole  him. 

Lesson  for  dogs  and  men!  ''Come  in!"  says 
the  gray  spider  to  the  house-fly;  "I  have  enter- 
tained a  great  many  flies.  I  have  plenty  of  room, 
fine  meals  and  a  gay  life.  Walk  on  this  suspen- 
sion bridge.  Give  me  your  hand.  Come  in,  my 
sweet  lady  fly.  These  walls  are  covered  with  silk, 
and  the  tapestry  is  gobelin.  I  am  a  wonderful 
creature.  I  have  eight  eyes,  and  of  course  can 
see  your  best  interest.  Philosophers  have  written 
volumes  about  my  antennae  and  cephalothorax. ' ' 
House-fly  walks  gently  in.  The  web  rocks  like 
a  cradle  in  the  breeze.  The  house-fly  feels 
honored  to  be  the  guest  of  such  a  big  spider. 
We  all  have  regard  for  big  bugs.  "But  what  is 
this?"  cries  the  fly,  pointing  to  a  broken  wing, 
"and  this  fragment  of  an  insect's  foot.  There 
must  have  been  a  murder  here !  Let  me  go  back ! ' ' 
"  Ha !  ha  I "  says  the  spider,  ' '  the  gate  is  locked, 
the  drawbridge  is  up.  I  only  contracted  to  bring 
you  in.  I  cannot  atford  to  let  you  out.  Take  a 
drop  of  this  poison,  and  it  will  quiet  your  nerves. 
1  throw  this  hook  of  a  fang  over  your  neck  to 
keep  you  from  falling  oflT. ' '  Word  went  back  to 
the  house-fly's  family,  and  a  choir  of  great  green- 
bottled  insects  sang  this  psalm  at  the  funeral: 
"An  unfortunate  fly  a-visiting  went, 
And  in  a  gossamer  web  found  himself  pent.  " 
The  first  five  years  of  a  dissipated  life  is  com- 
paratively easy,  for  it  is  all  down  hill ;  but  when 
the  man  wakes  up  and  finds  his  tongue  wound 
with  blasphemies,  and  his  eyes  swimming  in 
rheum,  and  the  antenn£e  of  Vice  feeling  along 
his  nerves,  and  the  spiderish  poison  eating 
through  his  very  life,  a   '■^  he  resolves  to  return, 


Carlo  and  the  Fi'cezer.  35 

he  finds  it  hard  traveling,  for  it  is  up  hill,  and 
tlie  fortresses  along  the  road  open  on  him  their 
batteries.  We  go  into  sin,  hop,  skip  and  jump ; 
we  come  out  of  it  creeping  on  all  fours. 

Let  flies  and  dogs  and  men  keep  out  of  mis- 
chief. It  is  smooth  all  the  way  there,  and  rough 
all  the  way  back.  It  is  ice-cream  for  Carlo  clear 
down  to  the  bottom  of  the  can,  but  afterward  it 
is  blinded  eyes  and  sore  neck  and  great  fright. 
It  is  only  eighteen  inches  to  go  into  the  freezer; 
it  is  three  miles  out.  For  Robert  Burns  it  is  rich 
wine  and  clapping  hands  and  carnival  all  the  way 
going  to  PMinburgh;  but  going  back,  it  is  worn- 
out  Ijody,  and  lost  estate,  and  stinging  conscience, 
and  broken  heart,  and  a  drunkard's  grave. 

Better  moderate  our  desires.  Carlo  liad  that 
morning  as  good  a  breakfast  as  any  dog  need  ta 
have.  It  was  a  law  of  the  house'hold  that  he 
should  be  well  fed.  Had  he  been  satisfied  with 
bread  and  meat,  all  would  have  been  welL  But 
lie  sauntered  out  for  luxuries.  He  wanted  ice- 
cream. He  got  it,  but  ])rought  upon  his  head 
the  perils  and  damages  of  which  I  have  written. 
As  long  as  we  have  reasonable  wants  we  get  on 
comfortably,  but  it  is  the  struggle  after  luxuries 
that  fills  society  with  distress,  and  populates 
prisons,  and  sends  hundreds  of  people  stark  mad. 
J>issatisfied  with  a  plain  house,  and  ordinary 
apparel,  and  respectable  surroundings,  they  plunge- 
their  head  into  enterprises  and  speculations  from 
which  they  have  to  sneak  out  in  disgrace.  Thou- 
sands of  liien  have  sacrificed  honor  and  religion 
for  luxuries,  and  died  with  the  freezer  al)out 
their  ears. 

Young  Catchem  has  one  horse,  but  wants  six. 
Lives  in  a  nice  house  on  Thirtieth  street,  but 
wants  one  on  Madison  Square.  Has  ouq  beauti- 
ful wife,  but  wants  four.  Owns  a  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  of  Erie  stock,  but  wants  a  million. 


36  A r 07171  d  the  Tea-table. 

Plunges  his  head  into  schemes  of  all  sorts,  eata 
his  way  to  the  bottom  of  the  can  till  he  cannot 
€xtricat«  himself,  and  constables,  and  sheriffs, 
and  indignant  society,  which  would  have  said 
nothing  had  he  been  successful,  go  to  pounding 
him  because  he  cannot  get  his  head  out. 

Our  poor  old  Carlo  is  dead  now.  We  all  cried 
when  we  found  that  he  would  never  frisk  again 
at  our  coming,  nor  put  up  his  paw  against  us. 
But  he  lived  long  enough  to  preach  the  sermon 
about  caution  and  contentment  of  which  I  have 
been  the  stenographer. 


CHAPTER  V. 
OLD  ga:\ies  eepeated. 

We  tarried  longer  in  the  dining-room  this 
evening  than  usual,  and  the  children,  losing  their 
interest  in  what  we  were  saying  got  to  playing  all 
about  us  in  a  very  boisterous  w^ay,  but  we  said 
nothing,  for  it  is  the  evening  hour,  and  I  think 
it  keeps  one  fresh  to  have  these  things  going  on 
around  us.  Indeed,  we  never  get  over  being 
boys  and  girls.  The  good,  healthy  man  sixty 
years  of  age  is  only  a  boy  with  adder!  experience. 
A  W'Oman  is  only  an  old  girl.  Summer  is  bat  an 
older  spring.  August  is  May  in  its  teens.  We 
shall  be  useful  in  proportion  as  we  keep  young  in 
our  feelings.  There  is  no  use  for  fossils  except 
in  museums  and  on  the  shelf.  I  like  young  old 
folks. 

Indeed,  we  all  keep  doing  over  what  we  did  in 
childhood.  You  thought  that  long  ago  you  got 
through  with  ''blind-man's-buff,"  and  "hide- 
and-seek,  "  and  "puss  in  the  corner,  "  and  "tick- 
tack-to,  "and  "leap-frog,"  but  all  our  lives  are 
passed  in  playing  those  old  games  over  again. 

You  say,  "What  a  racket  those  children  make 
in  the  other  room!  When  Squire  Jones'  boys 
come  over  to  spend  the  evening  with  our  children, 
it  seems  as  if  they  would  tear  the  house  down. ' ' 
"Father,  be  patient  I"  the  wife  says;  "we 
once  played  'blind-man's-buff'  ourselves."  Sure 
enough,  father  is  playing  it  now,  if  he  only  knew 
it.  Much  of  our  tirne  in  life  we  go  about"^ blind- 
folded, stumbling  over  mistakes,  trying  to  catch 
things  that  we  miss,  while  people  stand  round  the 
ring  and  titter,  and  break  out  with  half- suppressed 

37 


38  Aroimd  the  Tea-table, 

laughter,  and  push  us  ahead,  and  twitch  the 
corner  of  our  eye-bandage.  After  a  while  we 
vehemently  clutch  something  with  both  hands, 
and  announce  to  the  world  our  capture  ;  the  blind- 
fold is  taken  from  our  eyes,  and,  amid  the  shouts 
of  the  surrounding  spectators,  we  find  we  have, 
after  all,  caught  the  wrong  thing.  What  is  that 
but  ''blind-man's  buff"  over  again? 

You  say,  "Jenny  and  Harry,  go  to  bed.  It 
seems  so  silly  for  you  to  sit  there  making  two 
parallel  lines  perpendicular,  and  two  parallel  lines 
horizontal,  and  filling  up  the  blanks  with  crosses 
and  o's,  and  then  crying  out  'tick-tack-to.'  " 
My  dear  man,  you  are\loing  every  day  in  busi- 
ness just  what'  your  children  are  doing  in  the 
nursery.  You  find  it  hard  to  get  things  into  a 
line.  'You  have  started  out  for  worldly  suc- 
cess. You  get  one  or  two  things  fixed  but  that 
is  not  what  you  want.  After  a  while  you  have 
had  two  fine  successes.  You  say,  "  If  I  can  have 
a  third  success,  I  will  come  out  ahead."  But 
somebody  is  busy  on  the  same  slate,  trying  to 
hinder  you  getting  the  game.  You  mark ;  he 
marks.  'l  think  you  will  win.  To  the  first  and 
second  success  Mhich  you  have  already  gained 
you  add  the  third,  for  which  you  have  long  been 
seeking.  The  game  is  yours, 'and  you  clap  your 
hands,  and  hunch  your  opponent  in  the  side,  and 
shout, 

"Tick-tack-to, 

Three  in  a  row. ' ' 

The  funniest  play  that  I  ever  joined  in  at  school, 
and  one  that  sets  me  a-laughing  now  as  I  think 
of  it  so  I  can  hardly  write,  is  "leap-frog.  "  It  is 
unartistic  and  homely.  It  is  so  humiliating  to 
the  boy  who  bends  himself  over  and  puts  his 
hands  down  on  his  knees,  and  it  is  so  perilous  to 
the  boy  who,  placing  his  hands  on  the  stooped 


Old  G a  vies  Repeated.  39 

shoulders,  attempts  to  fly  over.  But  I  always  pre- 
ferred the  risk  of  the  one  who  attempted  the  leap 
rather  than  the  humiliation  of  the  one  who  con- 
sented to  be  vaulted  over.  It  was  often  the  case 
that  we  both  failed  in  our  part  and  we  went  down 
together.  For  this  Jack  Snyder  carried  a  grudge 
against  me  and  would  not  speak,  because  he  said 
I  pushed  him  down  a-purpose.  But  I  hope  he 
has  forgiven  me  hy  this  time,  for  he  has  been 
out  as  a  missionary.  Indeed,  if  Jack  will  come 
this  way,  I  will  right  the  wrong  of  olden  time  by 
stooping  down  in  my  study  and  letting  him  spring 
over  me  as  my  children  do. 

Almost  every  autumn  I  see  that  old-time  school- 
boy feat  repeated.  3Ir.  So-and-so  says,  "You 
make  me  governor  and  I  will  see  that  you  get  to 
be  senator.  Make  me  mayor  and  I  will  see  that 
you  become  assessor.  Get  me  the  office  of  street- 
sweeper  and  you  shall  have  one  of  the  brooms. 
You  stoop  down  and  let  me  jump  over  you,  and 
then  I  will  stoop  down  and  let  you  jump  over  me. 
Elect  me  deacon  and  you  shall  be  trustee.  You 
write  a  good  thing  about  me  and  I  will  write  a 
good  thing  about  you. ' '  The  day  of  election  in 
Church  or  State  arrives.  A  man  once  very  up- 
right in  his  principles  and  policy  begins  to  bend. 
You  cannot  understand  it.  He  goes  down  lower 
and  lower,  until  he  gets  his  hands  away  down  on 
his  knees.  Then  a  spry  politician  or  ecclesiastic 
comes  up  behind  him,  puts  his  hand  on  tlie  bowed 
strategist  and  springs  clear  over  into  some  great 
position.  Good  thing  to  have  so  good  a  man  in 
a  prominent  place.  But  after  a  while  he  himself 
begins  to  bend.  Everyljody  says,  '"What  is  the 
matter  now?  It  cannot  be  possible  that  he  is  going 
down  too."  Oh  yes  I  Turn-about  is  fair  play. 
Jack  Snyder  holds  it  against  me  to  this  day,  be- 
cause, after  he  had  stooped  down  to  let  me  leap 
over  him,  I  would  not  stoop  down  to  let  him  leap 


40  Around  the  Tea-table. 

over  me.  One  half  the  strange  things  in  Church 
and  State  may  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that, 
ever  since  Adam  bowed  down  so  low  as  to  let 
the  race,  putting  its  hands  on  him,  fly  over  into 
ruin,  there  has  been  a  universal  and  perpetual 
tendency  to  political  and  ecclesiastical  "leap- 
frog." In  one  sense,  life  is  a  great  "game  of 
ball."  We  all  choose  sides  and  gather  into 
denominational  and  political  parties.  We  take 
our  places  on  the  ball  ground.  Some  are  to  pitch  ; 
they  are  the  radicals.  Some  are  to  catch ;  they 
are  the  conservatives.  Some  are  to  strike;  they 
are  those  fond  of  polemics  and  battle.  Some  are 
to  run  ;  they  are  the  candidates.  There  are  four 
hunks — youth,  manhood,  old  age  and  death. 
Some  one  takes  the  bat,  lifts  it  and  strikes  for 
the  prize  and  misses  it,  while  the  man  who  was 
behind  catches  it  and  goes  in.  This  man  takes 
his  turn  at  the  bat,  sees  the  flying  ball  of  success, 
takes  good  aim  and  strikes  it  high,  amid  the 
clapping  of  all  the  spectators.  We  all  have  a 
chance  at  the  ball.  Some  of  us  run  to  all  the  four 
hunks,  from  youth  to  manhood,  from  manhood 
to  old  age,  from  old  age  to  death.  At  the  tirst 
hunk  we  bound  with  uncontrollable  mirth ;  com- 
ing to  the  second,  we  run  with  a  slower  but 
stronger  tread ;  coming  to  the  third,  our  step  is 
feeble ;  coming  to  the  fourth,  our  breath  entirely 
gives  out.  We  throw  down  the  bat  on  the  black 
hunk  of  death,  and  in  the  evening  catchers  and 
pitchers  go  home  to  find  the  family  gathered  and 
the  food  prepared.  So  may  Ave  all  find  the  candles 
lighted,  and  the  table  set,  and  the  old  folks  at 
home. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  FULL-BLOODED  COW. 

We  never  had  any  one  drop  in  about  six  o'clock 
p.  m.  whom  we  were  more  glad  to  see  than  Field- 
ing, the  Orange  County  farmer.  In  the  first 
place,  he  always  had  a  good  appetite,  and  it  did 
not  make  much  difference  w^hat  we  had  to  eat. 
He  would  not  nibble  about  the  end  of  a  piece  of 
bread,  undecided  as  to  whether  he  had  better 
take  it,  nor  sit  sipping  his  tea  as  though  the 
doctor'had  ordered  him  to  take  only  ten  drops  at 
a  time,  mixed  with  a  little  sugar  and  hot  water. 
Perpetual  contact  with  fresh  air  and  the  fields 
and  the  mountains  gave  him  a  healthy  body, 
while  the  religion  that  he  learned  in  the  little 
church  down  by  the  mill-dam  kept  him  in  healthy 
spirits.  Fielding  keeps  a  great  drove  of  cattle^ 
and  has  an  overflowing  dairy.  As  w^e  handed  him 
the  cheese  he  said,  "I  really  believe  this  is  of  my 
own  making."  "Fielding,"  I  inquired,  how 
does  your  dairy  thrive,  and  have  you  any  new 
stock  on  your  farm?  Come  give  us  a  little  touch 
of  the  country. ' '  He  gave  me  a  mischievous  look 
and  said,  "I  will  not  tell  you  a  w^ord  until  you 
let  me  know  all  about  that  full-blooded  cow,  of 
which  I  have  heard  something.  You  need  not 
try  to  hide  that  story  any  longer.  "  So  we  yielded 
to  his  coaxing.     It  was  about  like  this : 

The  man  had  not  been  able  to  pay  his  debts. 
The  mortgage  on  the  farm  had  been  foreclosed. 
Day  of  sale  had  come.  The  sherifi"  stood  on  a 
box  reading  the  terms  of  vendue.  All  payments 
to  be  made  in  six  months.  The  auctioneer  took 
his  place.     The  old  man  and  his  wife  and  the 

41 


42 


Arou7id  the  Tea-table. 


children  all  cried  as  the  piano,  and  the  chaire, 
and  the  pictures,  and  the  carpets,  and  the  bed- 
steads went  at  half  their  worth.  When  the  piano 
went,  it  seemed  to  the  old  people  as  if  the  sheriff 
were  selling  all  the  lingers  that  had  ever  played 
on  it ;  and  when  the  carpets  were  struck  off,  I 
think  father  and  mother  thought  of  the  little 
feet  that  had  tramped  it ;  and  when  the  bedstead 
was  sold,  it  brought  to  mind  the  bright,  curly 
heads  that  had  slept  on  it  long  before  the  dark 
•days  had  come,  and  father  had  put  his  name  on 
the  back  of  a  note,  signing  his  own  death  war- 
rant. The  next  thing  to  being  buried  alive  is  to 
have  the  sheriff  sell  you  out  when  you  have  been 
honest  and  have  tried  always  to  do  right.  There 
are  so  many  envious  ones  to  chuckle  at  your  fall, 
and  come  in  to  buy  your  carriage,  blessing  the 
Lord  that  the  time' has  come  for  you  to  walk 
and  for  them  to  ride. 

But  to  us  the  auction  reached  its  climax  of 
interest  when  we  went  to  the  barn.  We  were 
spending  our  summers  in  the  country,  and  must 
have  a  cow.  There  were  ten  or  fifteen  sukies 
to  be  sold.  There  were  reds,  and  piebalds,  and 
•duns,  and  browns,  and  brindles,  short  horns, 
long  horns,  crumpled  horns  and  no  horns.  But 
we  marked  for  our  own  a  cow  that  was  said  to 
be  full-blooded,  whether  Alderney,  or  Durham, 
•or  Galloway,  or  Ayrshire,  I  will  not  tell  lest  some 
cattle  fancier  feel  insulted  by  what  I  say ;  and  if 
there  is  any  grace  that  I  pride  myself  *on,  it  is 
prudence  and  a  determination  always  to  say 
smooth  things.  "How  much  is  bid  for  this 
magnificent,  full-blooded  cow?"  cried  the  auction- 
eer. ' '  Seventy-five  dollars, ' '  shouted  some  one. 
I  made  it  eighty.  He  made  it  ninety.  Some- 
body else  quickly  made  it  a  hundred.  After  the 
bids  had  risen  'to  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
dollars,  I  got  animated,  and  resolved  that  I  would 


The  Full-blooded  Cow.  43 

have  that  cow  if  it  took  my  last  cent.  "One 
hundred  and  forty  dollars, ' '  shouted  my  opponent. 
The  auctioneer  said  it  was  the  finest  cow  he  had 
ever  sold;  and  not  knowing  much  about  vendues, 
of  course  I  believed  him.  It  was  a  good  deal  of 
money  for  a  minister  to  pay,  but  then  I  could 
get  the  whole  matter  off  my' hands  by  giving  "a 
note. ' '  In  utter  defiance  of  everything  I  cried 
out,  "One  hundred  and  fifty  dollars!"  "Going 
at  that,"  said  the  auctioneer,  "Going  at  that! 
once  !  twice !  three  times !  gone  I  Mr.  Talmage 
has  it. ' '  It  was  one  of  the  proudest  moments  of 
our  life.  There  she  stood,  tall,  immense  in  the 
girth,  horns  branching  graceful  as  a  tree  branch, 
full-uddered,  silk-coated,  pensive-eyed. 

We  hired  two  boys  to  drive  her  home  while  we 
rode  in  a  carriage.  No  sooner  had  we  started 
than  the  cow  showed  what  turned  out  to  be  one 
of  her  peculiarities,  great  speed  of  hoof.  She 
left  the  boys,  outran  my  horse,  jumped  the  fence, 
frightened  nearly  to  death  a  group  of  school- 
children, and  by  the  time  we  got  home  we  all 
felt  as  if  we  had  all  day  been  out  on  a  fox-chase. 

We  never  had  any  peace  with  that  cow.  She 
knew  more  tricks  than  a  juggler.  She  could  let 
down  any  bars,  open  any  gate,  outrun  any  dog 
and  ruin  the  patience  of  any  minister.  We  had 
her  a  year,  and  yet  she  never  got  over  wanting  to 
go  to  the  vendue.  Once  started  out  of  the  yard, 
she  was  bound  to  see  the  sheriff".  We  coaxed 
her  with  carrots,  and  apples,  and  cabbage,  and 
sweetest  stalks,  and  the  richest  beverage  of  slops, 
but  without  avail. 

As  a  milker  she  was  a  failure.  "Mike,"  who 
lived  just  back  of  our  place,  would  come  in  at 
nights  from  his  ' '  Kerry  cow, ' '  a  scraggly  runt 
that  lived  on  the  commons,  with  his  pail  so  full 
he  had  to  carry  it  cautiously  lest  it  spill  over. 
But  after  our  full-blooded  had  been  in  clover  to 


44  Around  the  Tea-table. 

her  eyes  all  day,  Bridget  would  go  out  to  the  barn- 
yard,' and  tug "  and  pull  for  a  supply  enough  to 
make  two  or  three  custards.  I  said,  "Bridget, 
you  don't  know  how  to  milk.  Let  me  try.  "  I  sat 
down  by  the  cow,  tried  thefull  force  of  dynamics, 
but  just  at  the  moment  when  my  success  was 
about  to  be  demonstrated,  a  sudden  thought  took 
her  somewhere  between  the  horns,  and  she  started 
for  the  vendue,  with  one  stroke  of  her  back  foot 
upsetting  the  small  treasure  I  had  accumulated, 
and  leaving  me  a  mere  wreck  of  what  I  once  was. 

She  had,  among  other  bad  things,  a  morbid 
appetite.  Notwithstanding  we  gave  her  the  richest 
herbaceous  diet,  she  ate  everything  she  could  put 
her  mouth  on.  She  was  fond  of  horse  blankets 
and  articles  of  human  clothing.  I  found  her  one 
day  at  the  clothes  line,  nearly  choked  to  death, 
for  she  had  swallowed  one  leg  of  something  and 
seemed  dissatisfied  that  she  could  not  get  down 
the  other.  The  most  perfect  nuisance  that  I  ever 
had  about  my  place  was  that  full-blooded. 

Having  read  in  our  agricultural  journals  of 
cows  that  M'ere  slaughtered  yielding  fourteen  hun- 
dred pounds  neat  weight,  we  concluded  to  sell 
her  to  the  butcher.  We  set  a  high  price  upon  her 
and  got  it — that  is,  we  took  a  note  for  it,  which 
is  the  same  thing.  My  bargain  with  the  butcher 
was  the  only  successful  chapter  in  my  bovine 
experiences.  The  only  taking-ofi"  in  the  whole 
transaction  was  that  the  butcher  ran  away,  leav- 
ing me  nothing  but  a  specimen  of  poor  chirog- 
raphy,  and  1  already  had  enough  of  that  among 
my  manuscripts. 

My  friend,  never  depend  on  high-breeds.  Some 
of  the  most  useless  of  cattle  had  ancestors  spoken 
of  in  the  "Commentaries  of  Csesar. "  That 
Alderney  whose  grandfather  used  to  graze  on  a 
lord's  park  in  England  may  not  be  worth  the 
grass  she  eats. 


The  Full-blooded  Cow.  45 

Do  not  depend  too  much  on  the  high-sounding 
name  of  Durham  or  Devon.  As  with  animals, 
so  with  men.  Only  one  President  ever  had  a 
President  for  a  son.  Let  every  cow  make  her 
own  name,  and  every  man  achieve  his  own 
position.  It  is  no  great  credit  to  a  fool  that  he 
had  a  wise  grandfather.  Many  an  Ayrshire  and 
Hereford  has  had  the  hollow-horn  and  the  foot- 
rot.  Both  man  and  animal  are  valuable  in  pro- 
portion as  they  are  useful.  *' Mike's"  cow  beat 
my  full-blooded. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  DREGS  IN  LEATHERBACKS'  TEA-CUR 

We  have  an  earlier  tea  this  evening  than 
usual,  for  we  have  a  literary  friend  who  comes 
about  this  time  of  the  week,  and  he  must  go 
home  to  retire  about  eight  o'clock.  His  nervous 
system  is  so  weak  that  he  must  get  three  or  four 
hours  sleep  before  midnight;  otherwise  he  is 
next  day  so  cross  and  censorious  he  scalps  every 
author  he  can  lay  his  hand  on.  As  he  put  his 
hand  on  the  table  with  an  indelible  blot  of  ink 
on  his  thumb  and  two  fingers,  which  blot  he  had 
not  been  able  to  wash  off,  I  said,  ' '  Well,  my  old 
friend  Leatherbacks,  what  books  have  you  been 
reading  to-day?" 

He  replied,  "I  have  been  reading  'Men  and 
Things. '  Some  books  touch  only  the  head  and 
make  us  think  ;  other  books  touch  only  the  heart 
and  make  us  feel;  here  and  there  one  touches 
us  under  the  fifth  rib  and  makes  us  laugh ;  but 
the  book  on  '  Men  and  Things, '  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
C.  S.  Henry,  touched  me  all  over.  I  have  felt 
better  ever  since.  I  have  not  seen  the  author  but 
once  since  the  old  university  days,  when  he 
lectured  us  and  pruned  us  and  adVised  us  and 
did  us  more  good  than  almost  any  other  instructor 
we  ever  had.  Oh,  those  were  grand  days !  No 
better  than  the  present,  for  life  grows  brighter  to 
me  all  the  time ;  but  we  shall  not  forget  the 
quaint,  strong,  brusque  professor  who  so  uncere- 
moniously smashed  things  which  he  did  not 
like,  and  shook  the  class  with  merriment  or 
indignation.  The  widest  awake  professorial  room 
in  the  land  was  Dr.  Henry's,   in  the    New  York 

46 


The  Dregs  in  Leatherbacks'  Tea-cup.  47 

University.  But  the  participators  in  those  scenes 
are  all  scattered.  I  know  the  whereabouts  of 
but  three  or  four.  So  we  meet  for  a  little  while 
on  earth,  and  then  we  separate.  There  must  be 
a  better  place  somewhere  ahead  of  us. 

''I  have  also  been  looking  over  a  book  that 
overhauls  the  theology  and  moral  character  of 
Abraham  Lincoln.  This  is  the  only  kind  of 
slander  that  is  safe.  I  have  read  all  the  stuff  for 
the  last  three  years  published  about  Abraham 
Lincoln's  unfair  courtships  and  blank  infidelity. 
The  protracted  discussion  has  made  only  one 
impression  upon  me,  and  that  is  this :  How  safe 
it  is  to  slander  a  dead  man !  You  may  say  what 
you  will  in  print  about  him,  he  brings  no  rebut- 
ting evidence.  I  have  heard  that  ghosts  do  a 
great  many  things,  but  I  never  heard  of  one  as 
printing  a  book  or  editing  a  newspaper  to  vindi- 
cate himself.  Look  out  how  you  vilify  a  living 
man,  for  he  may  respond  with  pen,  or  tongue, 
or  cowhide;  but  only  get  a  man  thoroughly  dead 
(that  is,  so  certified  by  the  coroner)  and  have  a 
good,  heavy  tombstone  put  on  the  top  of  him, 
and  then  you  may  say  what  you  will  with 
impunity. 

"But  I  have  read  somewhere  in  an  old  book 
that  there  is  a  day  coming  when  all  wrongs  will 
be  righted ;  and  I  should  not  wonder  if  then  the 
dead  were  vindicated,  and  all  the  swine  who  have 
uprooted  graveyards  should,  like  their  ancestors 
of  Gadara,  run"  down  a  steep  place  into  the  sea 
and  get  choked.  The  fact  that  there  are  now  alive 
men  so  debauched  of  mind  and  soul  that  they 
rejoice  in  mauling  the  reputation  of  those  who 
spent  their  lives  in  illustrious  achievement  for 
God  and  their  country,  and  then  died  as  martyrs 
for  their  principles,  makes  me  believe  in  eternal 
damnation. ' ' 

With  this  last  sentence    my    friend    Leather- 


48  Around  the  Tea-table. 

backs  gave  a  violent  gesture  that  upset  his  cup 
and  left  the  table-cloth  sopping  wet. 

*'By  the  way,"  said  he,  "have  you  heard  that 
Odger  is  coming?" 

' '  What ! ' '  said  I.  He  continued  without  look- 
ing up,  for  he  was  at  that  moment  running  his 
knife,  not  over-sharp,  through  a  lamb-chop  made 
out  of  old  sheep.  (Wife,  we  will  have  to  change 
our  butcher ! )  He  continued  with  a  severity 
perhaps  partly  caused  by  the  obstinacy  of  the 
meat:  "I  see  in  the  'Pall-Mall  Budget'  the 
startling  intelligence  that  Mr.  Odger  is  coming  to 
the  United  States  on  a  lecturing  expedition.  Our 
American  newspapers  do  not  seem,  as  yet,  to  have 
got  hold  of  this  news,  but  the  tidings  will  soon 
fly,  and  great  excitement  may  be  expected  to 
follow." 

Some  unwise  person  might  ask  the  foolish 
question,  "Who  is  Odger?"  I  hope,  however, 
that  such  inquiry  will  not  be  made,  for  I  would 
be  compelled  to  say  that  I  do  not  know.  Whether 
he  is  a  clergyman  or  a  reformer,  or  an  author,  or 
all  these  in  one,  we  cannot  say.  Suffice  it  he  is 
a  foreigner,  and  that  is  enough  to  make  us  all  go 
wild.  A  foreigner  does  not  need  more  than  half 
as  much  brain  or  heart  to  do  twice  as  well  as  an 
American,  either  at  preaching  or  lecturing.  There 
is  for  many  Americans  a  bewitchment  in  a  foreign 
brogue.  I  do  not  know  but  that  he  may  have 
■dined  with  the  queen,  or  have  a  few  drops  of 
lordly  blood  distributed  through  his  arteries. 

I  notice,  however,  that  much  of  this  charm  has 
been  broken.  I  used  to  think  that  all  English 
lords  were  talented,  till  I  heard  one  of  them  make 
the  only  poor  speech  that  was  made  at  the  open- 
ing meeting  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance.  Our 
lecturing  committees  would  not  pay  very  large 
prices  next  year  for  Mr.  Bradlaugh  and  Edmund 
Tates.     Indeed,    we   expect    that  the  time  will 


The  Dregs  in  Leatherbacks'  Tea-cup.  49 

soon  come  when  the  same  kind  of  balances  will 
weigh  Englishmen,  Scotchmen,  Irishmen,  French- 
men and  Americans. 

If  a  man  can  do  anything  well,  he  will  be 
acceptable  without  reference  to  whether  he  was 
born  by  the  Clyde,  the  Thames,  the  Seine,  or 
the  Hudson.  But  until  those  scales  be  lifted  it 
is  sufficient  to  announce  the  joyful  tidings  that 
* '  Odger  is  coming. ' ' 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  HOT  AXLE. 

The  express  train  was  flying  from  Cork  to 
Queenstown.  It  was  going  like  sixty — that  is, 
about  sixty  miles  an  hour.  No  sight  of  an  Irish 
village  to  arrest  our  speed,  no  sign  of  break-down, 
and  yet  the  train  halted.  We  looked  out  of  the 
window,  saw  the  brakemen  and  a  crowd  of  pas- 
sengers gathering  around  the  locomotive  and  a 
dense  smoke  arising.  What  was  the  matter? 
A  hot  axle ! 

We  were  on  the  lightning  train  for  Cleveland. 
We  had  no  time  to  spare.  If  we  stopped  for  a 
half  hour  we  should  be  greeted  by  the  anathema 
of  a  lecturing  committee.  We  felt  a  sort  of  presenti- 
ment that  we  should  be  too  late,  when  to  con- 
firm it  the  whistle  blew,  and  the  brakes  fell,  and 
the  cry  all  along  the  train  was,  "What  is  the 
matter?' '  Answer :  "A  hot  axle ! ' '  The  wheels 
had  been  making  too  many  revolutions  in  a 
minute.  The  car  was  on  fire.  It  was  a  very 
difficult  thing  to  put  it  out;  water,  sand  and 
swabs  were  tried,  and  caused  long  detention  and 
a  smoke  that  threatened  flame  down  to  the  end 
of  the  journey. 

We  thought  then,  and  think  now,  this  is  what 
is  the  matter  with  people  everywhere.  In  this 
swift,  "express,"  American  life,  we  go  too  fast 
for  our  endurance.  We  think  ourselves  getting 
on  splendidly,  when  in  the  midst  of  our  successes 
we  come  to  a  dead  halt.  What  is  the  matter? 
Nerves  or  muscles  or  brains  give  out.  We  have 
made  too  many  revolutions  in  an  hour.  A  hot 
axle! 

■   50 


The  Hot  Axle.  51 

Men  make  the  mistake  of  working  according  to 
their  opportunities,  and  not  according  to  their 
capacity  of  endurance.  "Can  I  run  this  train 
from  Springfield  to  Boston  at  the  rate  of  fifty 
miles  an  hour?"  says  an  engineer.  Yes.  "Then 
I  will  run  it  reckless  of  consequences. ' '  Can  I 
be  a  merchant,  and  the  president  of  a  bank,  and 
a  director  in  a  life  insurance  company,  and  a 
school  commissioner,  and  help  edit  a  paper,  and 
supervise  the  politics  of  our  ward,  and  run  for 
Congress?  "I  can  I"  the  man  says  to  himself. 
The  store  drives  him;  the  school  drives  him; 
politics  drive  him.  He  takes  all  the  scoldings 
and  frets  and  exasperations  of  each  position. 
Some  day  at  the  height  of  the  business  season  he 
does  not  come_  to  the  store ;  from  the  most  im- 
portant meetings  of  the  bank  directors  he  is 
absent.  In  the  excitements  of  the  political  can- 
vass he  fails  to  be  at  the  place  appointed.  What 
is  the  matter?  His  health  has  broken  down. 
The  train  halts  long  before  it  gets  to  the  station. 
A  hot  axle ! 

Literary  men  have  great  opportunities  opening 
in  this  day.  If  they  take  all  that  open,  they  are 
dead  men,  or  worse,  living  men  who  ought  to  be 
dead.  The  pen  runs  so  easy  when  you  have  good 
ink,  and  smooth  paper,  and  an  easy  desk  to  write 
on,  and  the  consciousness  of  an  audience  of  one, 
two  or  three  hundred  thousand  readei's.  There 
are  the  religious  newspapers  through  which  you 
preach,  and  the  musical  journals  through  which 
you  may  sing,  and  the  agricultural  periodicals 
through  which  you  can  plough,  and  family  news- 
papers in  which  you  may  romp  with  the  whole 
household  around  the  evening  stand.  There  are 
critiques  to  be  written,  and  reviews  to  be  in- 
dulged in,  and  poems  to  be  chimed,  and  novels 
to  be  constructed.  When  out  of  a  man's  pen  he 
can  shake  recreation,  and  friendship,    and  use- 


52 


A r 01171  d  the  Tea-table, 


fulness,  and  bread,  he  is  apt  to  keep  it  shaking. 
So  great  are  the  invitations  to  literary  work  that 
the  professional  men  of  the  day  are  overcome. 
They  sit  faint  and  fagged  out  on  the  verge  of 
newspapers  and  books.  Each  one  does  the  work 
of  three,  and  these  men  sit  up  late  nights,  and 
choke  down  chunks  of  meat  without  mastication, 
and  scold  their  wives  through  irritability,  and 
maul  innocent  authors,  and  run  the  physical 
machinery  with  aliver  miserably  given  out.  The 
driving  shaft  has  gone  fifty  times  a  second. 
They  stop  at  no  station.  The  steam-chest  is  hot 
and'swollen.  The  brain  and  the  digestion  begin 
to  smoke.  Stop,  ye  flying  quills  I  ' '  Down  brakes ! ' ' 
A  hot  axle ! 

Some  of  the  worst  tempered  people  of  the  day 
are  religious  people,  from  the  fact  that  they  have 
no  rest.  Added  to  the  necessary  work  of  the 
world,  they  superintend  two  Sunday-schools,  listen 
to  two  sermons,  and  every  night  have  meetings 
of  charitable  and  Christian  institutions.  They 
look  after  the  beggars,  hold  conventions,  speak 
at  meetings,  wait  on  ministers,  serve  as  committee- 
men, take  all  the  hypercriticisms  that  inevitably 
come  to  earnest  Avorkers,  rush  up  and  down  the 
world  and  develop  their  hearts  at  the  expense  of 
all  the  other  functions.  They  are  the  best  men 
on  earth,  and  Satan  knows  it,  and  is  trying  to 
kill  them  as  fast  as  possible.  They  know  not 
that  it  is  as  much  a  duty  to  take  care  of  their 
health  as  to  go  to  the  sacrament.  It  is  as  much 
a  sin  to  commit  suicide  with  the  sword  of  truth 
as  with  a  pistol. 

Our  earthly  life  is  a  treasure  to  be  guarded.  It 
is  an  outrageous  thing  to  die  when  we  ought  to 
live.  There  is  no  use  in  firing  up  a  Cunarder  to 
such  a  speed  that  the  boiler  bursts  mid-Atlantic, 
when  at  a  more  moderate  rate  it  might  have 
reached  the  docks  at  Liverpool.     It  is  a  sin  to 


The  Hot  Axle,  53 

try  to  do  the  work  of  thirty  years  in  five 
years. 

A  Rocky  Mountain  locomotive  engineer  told  us 
that  at  certain  places  they  change  locomotives  and 
let  the  machine  rest,  as  a  locomotive  always  kept 
in  full  heat  soon  got  out  of  order.  Our  advice  to 
all  overworked  good  people  is,  "Slow  up!" 
Slacken  your  speed  as  you  come  to  the  crossings. 
All  your  faculties  for  work  at  this  rate  will  be 
consumed.  You  are  on  fire  now — see  the  pre- 
monitory smoke.     A  hot  axle  I 

Some  of  our  young  people  have  read  till  they 
are  crazed  of  learned  blacksmiths  who  at  the  forge 
conquered  thirty  languages,  and  of  shoemakers 
who,  pounding  sole-leather,  got  to  be  philosophers, 
and  of  millijiers  who,  while  their  customers  were 
at  the  glass  trying  on  their  spring  hats,  wrote  a 
volume  of  first-rate  poems.  The  fact  is  no  black- 
smith ought  to  be  troubled  with  more  than  five 
languages ;  and  instead  of  shoemakers  becoming 
philosophers,  we  would  like  to  turn  our  surplus 
of  philosophers  into  shoemakers ;  and  the  supply 
of  poetry  is  so  much  greater  than  the  demand  that 
we  wish  milliners  would  stick  to  their  business. 
Extraordinary  examples  of  work  and  endurance 
may  do  as  much  harm  as  good.  Because  Napoleon 
slept  only  three  hours  a  night,  hundreds  of 
students  have  tried  the  experiment ;  but  instead 
of  Austerlitz  and  Saragossa,  there  came  of  it  only 
a  sick  headache  and  a  botch  of  a  recitation.  We 
are  told  of  how  many  books  a  man  can  read  in 
the  five  spare  minutes  before  breakfast,  and  the 
ten  minutes  at  noon,  but  I  wish  some  one  could 
tell  us  how^  much  rest  a  man  can  get  in  fifteen 
minutes  after  dinner,  or  how  much  health  in  an 
hour's  horseback  ride,  or  how  much  fun  in  a 
Saturday  afternoon  of  cricket.  He  who  has  such 
an  idea  of  the  value  of  time  that  he  takes  none 
of  it  for  rest  wastes  all  his  time. 


54  Around  the  Tea- fable. 

Most  Americans  do  not  take  time  for  sufficient 
sleep.  We  account  for  our  own  extraordinary- 
health  by  the  fact  that  we  are  fanatics  on  the 
subject  of  sleep.  We  differ  from  our  friend 
Napoleon  Bonaparte  in  one  respect :  we  want  nine 
hours'  sleep,  and  we  take  it — eight  hours  at  night 
and  one  hour  in  the  day.  If  we  miss  our  allow- 
ance one  week,  as  we  often  do,  we  make  it  up 
the  next  week  or  the  next  month.  We  have 
sometimes  been  twenty-one  hours  in  arrearages. 
We  formerly  kept  a  memorandum  of  the  hours 
for  sleep  lost.  We  pursued  those  hours  till  we 
caught  them.  If  at  the  beginnino;  of  our  summer 
vacation  we  are  many  hours  behind  in  slumber, 
w^e  go  down  to  the  sea-shore  or  among  the  moun- 
tains and  sleep  a  month.  If  the  world  abuses  us 
at  any  time,  we  go  and  take  an  extra  sleep ;  and 
when  we  wake  up,  all  the  world  is  smiling  on  us. 
If  we  come  to  a  knotty  point  in  our  discourse, 
we  take  a  sleep ;  and  when  we  open  our  eyes,  the 
opaque  has  become  transparent.  We  split  every 
day  in  two  by  a  nap  in  the  afternoon.  Going  to 
take  that  somniferous  interstice,  we  say  to  the 
servants,  "Do  not  call  me  for  anything.  If  the 
house  takes  fire,  first  get  the  children  out  and  my 
private  papers ;  and  when  the  roof  begins  to 
fall  in  call  me."  Through  such  fanaticism  we 
have  thus  far  escaped  the  hot  axle. 

Somebody  ought  to  be  congratulated — I  do  not 
know  w^ho,  and  so  I  will  shake  hands  all  around 
— on  the  fact  that  the  health  of  the  country  seems 
improving.  Whether  Dio  Lewis,  with  his  g>'m- 
nastic  clubs,  has  pounded  to  death  American  sick- 
ness, or  whether  the  coming  here  of  many  Eng- 
lish ladies  with  their  magnificent  pedestrian 
habits,  or  whether  the  medicines  in  the  apothe- 
cary shops  through  much  adulteration  have  lost 
their  force,  or  whether  the  multiplication  of  bath- 
tubs has  induced  to  cleanliness  people  who  were 


The  Hot  Axle.  55 

never  washed  but  once,  and  that  just  after  their 
arrival  on  this  planet,  I  cannot  say.  But  sure  I 
am  that  I  never  saw  so  many  bright,  healthy- 
faced  people  as  of  late. 

Our  maidens  have  lost  the  languor  they  once 
cultivated,  and  walk  the  street  with  stout  step, 
and  swing  the  croquet  mallet  with  a  force  that 
sends  the  ball  through  two  arches,  cracking  the 
opposing  ball  with  great  emphasis.  Our  daughters 
are  not  ashamed  to  culture  flower  beds,  and  while 
they  plant  the  rose  in  the  ground  a  corresponding 
rose  blooms  in  their  own  cheek. 

But  we  need  another  proclamation  of  emancipa- 
tion. The  human  locomotive  goes  too  fast. 
Cylinder,  driving-boxes,  rock-shaft,  truck  and 
valve-gear  need  to  ' '  slow  up. ' '  Oh  I  that  some 
strong  hand  would  unloose  the  burdens  from  our 
over-tasked  American  life,  that  there  might  be 
fewer  bent  shoulders,  and  pale  cheeks,  and  ex- 
hausted lungs,  and  quenched  eyes,  the  law,  and 
medicine,  and  theology  less  frequently  stopped 
in  their  glorious  progress,  because  of  the  hot 
axle! 


CHAPTER  IX. 
BEEFSTEAK  FOR  MINISTERS. 

There  have  been  lately  several  elaborate  articles 
remarking  upon  what  they  call  the  lack  of  force 
and  fire  in  the  clergy.  The  world  wonders  that, 
with  such  a  rousing  theme  as  the  gospel,  and  with 
such  a  grand  work  as  saving  souls,  the  ministry 
should  ever  be  nerveless.  Some  ascribe  it  to  lack 
of  piety,  and  some  to  timidity  of  temperament. 
We  believe  that  in  a  great  number  of  cases  it  is 
from  the  lack  of  nourishing  food.  Many  of  the 
clerical  brotherhood  are  on  low  diet.  After 
jackets  and  sacks  have  been  provided  for  the 
eight  or  ten  children  of  the  parsonage,  the  father 
and  mother  must  watch  the  table  with  severest 
economy.  Coming  in  suddenly  upon  the  din- 
ner-hour of  the  country  clerg^'man,  the  housewife 
apologizes  for  what  she  calls  ''a  picked-up"  din- 
ner, when,  alas !  it  is  nearly  always  picked  up. 

Congregations  sometimes  mourn  over  dull 
preaching  when  themselves  are  to  blame.  Give 
your  minister  more  beefsteak  and  he  will  have 
more  fire.  Next  to  the  divine  unction,  the 
minister  needs  blood ;  and  he  cannot  make  that 
out  of  tough  leather.  One  reason  why  the  apostles 
preached  so  powerfully  was  that  they  had  healthy 
food.  Fish  was  cheap  along  Galilee,  and  this, 
with  unbolted  bread,  gave  them  plenty  of  phos- 
phorus for  brain  food.  These  early  ministers 
were  never  invited  out  to  late  suppers,  with 
chicken  salad  and  doughnuts.  Nobody  ever  em- 
broidered slippers  for  the  big  foot'  of  Simon 
Peter,  the  fisherman  preacher.  Tea  parties,  with 
hot  waffles,  at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  make  namby- 

56 


Beefsteak  for  Ministers.  57 

pamby  ministers ;  Vjut  good  hours  and  substantial 
diet,  that  furnish  nitrates  for  the  muscles,  and 
phosphates  for  the  brain,  and  carbonates  for  the 
whole  frame,  prepare  a  man  for  effective  work. 
When  the  water  is  low,  the  mill-wheel  goes  slow: 
but  a  full  race,  and  how  fast  the  grists  are  ground ! 
In  a  man  the  arteries  are  the  mill-race  and  the 
brain  the  wheel,  and  the  practical  work  of  life  is 
the  grist  ground.  The  reason  our  soldiers  failed 
in  some  of  the  battles  was  because  their  stomachs- 
had  for  several  days  been  innocent  of  everything 
but  ' '  hard  tack. ' '  See  that  your  minister  has  a 
full  haversack.  Feed  him  on  gruel  during  the 
week  and  on  Sunday  he  will  give  you  gruel. 
What  is  called  the  "jDarson's  nose"  in  a  turkey 
or  fowl  is  an  allegory  setting  forth  that  in  many 
communities  the  minister  comes  out  behind. 

Eight  hundred  or  a  thousand  dollars  for  a 
minister  is  only  a  slow  way  of  killing  him,  and 
is  the  worst  style  of  homicide.  Why  do  not  the 
trustees  and  elders  take  a  mallet  or  an  axe^ 
and  with  one  blow  put  him  out  of  his  misery? 
The  damage  begins  in  the  college  boarding  house. 
The  theological  student  has  generally  small  means, 
and  he  must  go  to  a  cheap  boarding  house.  A 
frail  piece  of  sausage  trying  to  swim  across  a  river 
of  gravy  on  the  breakfast  plate,  but  drowned  ab 
last,  "the  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out"  of 
flies  in  the  molasses  cup,  the  gristle  of  a  tough 
ox,  and  measly  biscuit,  and  buckwheat  cakes 
tough  as  the  cook's  apron,  and  old  peas  in  which 
the  bugs  lost  their  life  before  they  had  time  ta 
escape  from  the  saucepan,  and  stale  cucumbers 
cut  up  into  small  slices  of  cholera  morbus, — are 
the  provender  out  of  which  we  are  trying  at 
Princeton  and  Yale  and  Xew  Brunswick  to  make 
sons  of  thunder.  Sons  of  mush !  From  such 
depletion  we  step  gasping  into  the  pulpit,  and 
look  so   heavenly  pale  that  the  mothers  in  Israel 


58  AroMid  the  Tea-table. 

are  afraid  we  will  evaporate  before  we  get  through 
our  first  sermon. 

Many  of  our  best  young  men  in  preparation 
for  the  ministry  are  going  through  this  martyr- 
dom. Thestrongest  mind  in  our  theological  class 
perished,  the  doctors  said  afterward  from  lack 
of  food.  The  only  time  he  could  afford  a  doctor 
was  for  his  post-mortem  examination. 

I  give  the  financial  condition  of  many  of  our 
young  theological  students  when  I  say : 

Income $250  00 

Outgo : 
Board  at  $3  per  week  (cheap  place)  .    .    156  00 

Clothing    (shoddy) 100  00 

Books  (no  morocco) 25  00 

Traveling  expenses 20  00 

Total $301  00 

Here  you  see  a  deficit  of  fifty-one  dollars.  As 
there  are  no  *  'stealings' '  in  a  theological  seminary, 
he  makes  up  the  balance  by  selling  books  or 
teaching  school.  He  comes  into  life  cowed  down, 
wdth  a  patch  on  both  knees  and  several  other 
places,  and  a  hat  that  has  been  "done  over"  four 
or  five  times,  and  so  weak  that  the  first  sharp 
wind  that  whistles  round  the  corner  blows  him 
into  glory.  The  inertness  you  complain  of  in  the 
jninistry  starts  early.  Do  you  suppose  that  if 
Paul  had  spent  seven  years  In  a  cheap  boarding 
house,  and  the  years  after  in  a  poorly-supplied 
parsonage,  he  would  have  made  Felix  tremble? 
iso!  The  first  glance  of  the  Roman  procurator 
would  have  made  him  apologize  for  intrusion. 

Do  not  think  that  all  your  eight-hundred-dollar 
minister  needs  is  a  Christmas  present  of  an 
elegantly-boun  1  copy  of  ''Calvin's  Institutes." 
He  is  sound  already  on  the  doctrine  of  election, 
and  it  is   a  poor  consolation  if  in  this  way  you 


Beef  steak  for  Ministers.  59 

remind  him  that  he  has  been  foreordained  to 
starve  to  death.  Keep  your  minister  on  artichokes 
and  purslain,  and  he  will  be  fit  to  preach  nothing 
but  funeral  sermons  from  the  text  "All  flesh  is 
grass."  While  feeling  most  of  all  our  need  of 
the  life  that  comes  from  above,  let  us  not  ignore 
the  fact  that  many  of  the  clergy  to-day  need  more 
gj'mnastics,  more  "Afresh  air,  more  nutritious  food. 
Ih-ayer  cannot  do  the  viork  of  beefsteak.  You 
cannot  keep  a  hot  fire  in  the  furnace  with  poor 
fuel  and  the  damper  turned. 


CHAPTER  X. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   AN     OLD    PAIR    OF 

SCISSORS. 

I  was  born  in  Sheffield,  England,  at  the  close 
of  the  last  century,  and  was,  like  all  those  who 
study  Brown's  Shorter  Catechism,  made  out  of 
dust.  My  father  was  killed  at  Herculaneum  at 
the  time  of  the  accident  there,  and  buried  with 
other  scissors  and  knives  and  hooks  and  swords. 
On  my  mother's  side  I  am  descended  from  a  pair 
of  shears  that  came  to  England  during  the  Roman 
invasion.  My  cousin  hung  to  tlie  belt  of  a 
duchess.  My  uncle  belonged  to  Hampton  Court, 
and  used  to  trim  the  king's  hair.  I  came  to  the 
United  States  while  the  grandfathers  of  the  present 
generation  of  children  were  boys. 

When  I  was  young  I  was  a  gay  fellow — indeed, 
what  might  have  been  called  *  'a  perfect  blade. ' ' 
I  look  old  and  rusty  hanging  here  on  the  nail, 
but  take  me  down,  and  though  my  voice  is  a  little 
squeaky  with  old  age,  I  can  tell  you  a  pretty  tale. 
I  am  sharper  than  I  look.  Old  scissors  know 
more  than  you  think.  They  say  I  am  a  little 
garrulous,  and  perhaps  I  may  tell  things  I  ought 
not. 

I  helped  your  grandmother  prepare  for  her 
wedding.  I  cut  out  and  fitted  all  the  apparel  of 
that  happy  day.  I  hear  her  scold  the  young 
folks  now  for  being  so  dressy,  but  I  can  tell  you 
she  was  once  that  way  herself.  Did  not  I,  sixty 
years  ago,  lie  on  the  shelf  and  laugh  as  I  saw 
her  stand  by  the  half  hour  before  the  glass,  giv- 
ing an  extra  twist  to  her  curl  and  an  additional 
dash  of  white  powder  on  her  hair — now  fretted 
60 


A71  Old  Pair  of  Scissors.  6i 

because  the  powder  was  too  thick,  now  fretted 
because  it  was  too  thin?  She  was  as  proud  in 
cambric  and  calico  and  nankeen  as  Harriet  is  to- 
day in  white  tulle  and  organdy.  I  remember 
how  careful  she  was  when  she  ran  me  along  the 
edges  of  the  new  dress.  With  me  she  clipped 
and  notched  and  gored  and  trimmed,  and  day 
and  night  I  went  click!  click!  click!  and  it 
seemed  as  if  she  would  never  let  me  rest  from 
cutting. 

I  split  the  rags  for  the  first  carpet  on  the  old 
homestead,  and  what  a  merry  time  we  had  when 
the  neighbors  came  to  "the  quilting!"  I  lay  on 
the  coverlet  that  was  stretched  across  the  quilt- 
ing-frame  and  heard  all  the  gossip  of  1799. 
Reputations  were  ripped  and  torn  just  as  they  are 
now.  Fashions  were  chattered  about,  the  coal- 
scuttle bonnet  of  some  offensive  neighbor  ( who 
was  not  invited  to  the  quilting)  was  criticised, 
and  the  suspicion  started  that  she  laced  too  tight ; 
and  an  old  man  who  happened  to  have  the  best 
farm  in  the  county  was  overhauled  for  the  size 
of  his  knee-buckles,  and  the  exorbitant  ruffles  on 
his  shirt,  and  the  costly  silk  lace  to  his  hat.  I 
lay  so  still  that  no  one  supposed  I  was  listening. 
I  trembled  on  the  coverlet  with  rage  and  wished 
that  I  could  clip  the  end  of  their  tattling  tongues, 
but  found  no  chance  for  revenge,  till,  in  the  hand 
of  a  careless  neighbor,  I  notched  and  nearly 
spoiled  the  patch- work. 

Yes,  I  am  a  pair  of  old  scissors.  I  cut  out 
many  a  profile  of  old-time  faces,  and  the  white 
dimity  bed  curtains.  I  lay  on  the  stand  when 
your  grandparents  were  courting — for  that  had  to 
be  done  then  as  well  as  now — and  it  was  the 
same  story  of  chairs  wide  apart,  and  chairs  com- 
ing nearer,  and  arm  over  the  back  of  the  chair, 
and  late  hours,  and  four  or  five  gettings  up  to  go 
with  the  determination  to  stay,  protracted  inter- 


62  Around  the  Tea-table. 

views  on  the  front  steps,  blushes  and  kisses. 
Your  great-grandmother,  out  of  patience  at  the 
lateness  of  the  hour,  shouted  over  the  banister 
to  your  immediate  grandmother,  ' '  Mary !  come 
to  bed!''  Because  the  old  people  sit  in  the  cor- 
ner looking  so  very  grave,  do  not  suppose  their 
eyes  were  never  roguish,  nor  their  lips  ruby,  nor 
their  hair  tlaxen,  nor  their  feet  spry,  nor  that 
they  always  retired  at  half -past  eight  o'clock  at 
nigiit.  After  a  while,  I,  the  scissors,  was  laid  on 
the  shelf,  and  finally  thrown  into  a  box  among 
nails  and  screws  and  files.  Years  of  darkness 
and  disgrace  for  a  scissors  so  highly  born  as  I, 
But  one  day  I  was  hauled  out.  A  bell  tinkled  in 
the  street.  An  Italian  scissors-grinder  wanted  a 
job.  I  was  put  upon  the  stone,  and  the  grinder 
put  his  foot  upon  the  treadle,  and  the  bands 
pulled,  and  the  wheel  sped,  and  the  fire  flew,  and 
it  seemed  as  if,  in  the  heat  and  pressure  and 
agony,  I  should  die.  I  was  ground,  and  rubbed, 
and  oiled,  and  polished,  till  I  glittered  in  the 
sun ;  and  one  clay,  when  young  Harriet  was 
preparing  for  the  season,  I  plunged  into  the  fray. 
I  almost  lost  my  senses  among  the  ribbons,  and 
flew  up  and  down  among  the  "flounces,  and  went 
mad  amongst  the  basques.  I  move  round  as  gay 
as  when  I  was  young ;  and  modern  scissors,  with 
their  stumpy  ends,  and  loose  pivots,  and  weak 
blades,  and  glaring  bows,  and  course  shanks,  are 
stupid  beside  an  old  family  piece  like  me.  You 
would  be  surprised  how  spry  I  am  flying  around 
the  sewing-room,  cutting  corsage  into  heart -shape, 
and  slitting  a  place  for  button  holes,  and  making 
double-breasted  jackets,  and  hollowing  scallops, 
and  putting  the  last  touches  on  velvet  arabesques 
and  Worth  overskirts.  I  feel  almost  as  well  at 
eighty  years  of  age  as  at  ten,  and  I  lie  down  to 
sleep  at  nisht  amid  all  the  fineries  of  the  ward- 
robe,    on     olive-green      cashmere,     and    beside 


An  Old  Pair  of  Scissors.  63 

pannier  puff;^,  and  pillowed  on  featiiers  of 
o^strieh. 

Oh !  what  a  gay  life  the  scissors  live  I  I  may 
lie  on  gayest  lady's  lap,  and  little  children  like 
me  better  than  almost  anything  else  to  j^lay  with. 
The  trembling  octogenarian  takes  me  by  the  hand, 
and  the  rollicking  four-year-old  puts "  on  me  his 
dimpled  fingers.  Mine  are  the  children's  curls 
and  the  bride's  veil.  I  am  welcomed  to  the 
Christmas  tree,  and  the  sewing-machine,  and  the 
editor's  table.  I  have  cut  my  way  through  the 
ages.  Beside  pen,  and  sword,  and  needle,  I  dare 
to  stand  anywhere,  indispensable  to  the  race,  the 
world -renowned  scissors ! 

But  I  had  a  sad  mission  once.  The  bell  tolled 
in  the  Xew  England  village  because  a  soul  had 
passed.  I  sat  up  all  the  night  cutting  the  pattern 
for  a  shroud.  Oh,  it  was  gloomy  work.  There 
was  wailing  in  the  house,  but  I  could  not  stop  to 
mourn.  I  had  often  made  the  swaddling-tjlothes 
for  a  child,  but  that  was  the  only  time  I  fashioned 
a  robe  for  the  grave.  To  fit  it  around  the  little 
neck,  and  make  the  sleeves  just  long  enough  for 
the  quiet  anus — it  hurt  me  more  than  the  tilt 
hammers  that  smote  me  in  Shefiield,  than  the 
files  of  the  scissors-grinder  at  the  door.  I  heard 
heart-strings  snap  as  I  went  through  the  linen, 
and  in  the  white  pleats  to  be  folded  over  the 
still  heart  I  saw  the  snow  banked  on  a  grave. 
Give  me,  the  old  scissors,  fifty  bridal  dresses  to 
make  rather  than  one  shroud  to  prepare. 

I  never  recovered  from  the  chill  of  those  dis- 
mal days,  but  at  the  end  of  life  I  can  look  back 
and  feel  that  I  have  done  my  work  well.  Other 
scissors  have  frayed  and  unraveled  the  garments 
they  touched,  but  I  have  always  made  a  clean 
path  through  the  linen  or  the  damask  I  was  called 
to  divide.  Others  screeched  complainingly  at 
their  toil ;  I  smoothly   worked  my  jaws.     Many 


64  Around  the  Tea- table 

of  the  fingers  that  wrought  with  me  have  ceased 
to  open  and  shut,  and  my  own  time  will  soon 
come  to  die,  and  I  shall  be  buried  in  a  grave  of 
rust  amid  cast-off  tenpenny  nails  and  horse-shoes. 
But  I  have  stayed  long  enough  to  testify,  first, 
that  these  days  are  no  worse  than  the  old  ones, 
the  granddaughter  now  no  more  proud  than  the 
grandmother  was ;  secondly,  that  we  all  need  to 
be  hammered  and  ground  in  order  to  take  off  the 
rust ;  and  thirdly,  that  an  old  scissors,  as  well  as 
an  old  man,  may  be  scoured  up  and  made  practi- 
•callv  useful. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
A  LIE,  ZOOLOGICALLY  CONSIDERED. 

We  stand  agape  in  the  British  Museum,  look- 
ing at  the  monstrous  skeletons  of  the  mastodon, 
megatherium  and  iguanodon,  and  conclude  that 
all  the  great  animals  thirty  feet  long  and  eleven 
feet  high  are  extinct. 

Now,  while  we  do  not  want  to  frighten  children 
or  disturb  nervous  people,  we  have  to  say  that 
the  other  day  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  monster 
beside  which  the  lizards  of  the  saurian  era  were 
short,  and  the  elephants  of  the  mammalian  period 
were  insignificant.  We  saw  it  in  full  spring,  and 
on  the  track  of  its  prey.  Children  would  call 
the  creature  "a  fib;"  rough  persons  would  term 
it  "a  whopper;"  polite  folks  would  say  it  was 
•'a  fabrication;"  but  plain  and  unscientific  peo- 
ple would  style  it  "a  lie."  Naturalists  might 
assign  it  to  the  species  "Tigris  regalis,  "  or  " Felia 
pardus. ' ' 

We  do  not  think  that  anatomical  and  zoological 
justice  has  been  done  to  the  lie.  It  is  to  be 
found  in  all  zones.  Livingstone  saw  it  in  Cen- 
tral Africa;  Dr.  Kane  found  it  on  an  iceberg, 
beside  a  polar  bear;  Agassiz  discovered  it  in 
Brazil.  It  thrives  about  as  well  in  one  clime  as 
another,  with  perhaps  a  little  preference  for  the 
temperate  zone.  It  lives  on  berries,  or  bananas, 
or  corn,  grapes,  or  artichokes ;  drinks  water,  or 
alcohol,  or  tea.  It  eats  up  a  great  many  children, 
and  would  have  destroyed  the  boy  who  afterward 
became  the  father  of  his  country  had  he  not 
driven  it  back  with  his  hatchet.  (See  the  last 
two  hundred  Sunday-school  addresses. ) 


66  Around  the  Tea-table. 

The  first  peculiarity  of  this  Tigris  regalis  or 
Felis  pardus,  commonly  called  a  lie,  is  its 

LONGEVITY. 

If  it  once  get  born,  it  lives  on  almost  inter- 
minably. Sometimes  it  has  followed  a  man  for 
ten,  twenty  or  forty  years,  and  has  been  as 
healthy  in  its  last  leap  as  in  the  first.  It  has 
run  at  every  president  from  General  Washington 
to  General  Grant,  and  helped  kill  Horace  Greeley. 
It  has  barked  at  every  good  mim  since  Adam, 
and  every  good  woman  since  Eve,  and  every  good 
boy  since  Abel, and  every  good  cow  since  Pharaoh's 
lean  kine.  Malarias  do  not  poison  it,  nor  fires 
burn  it,  nor  winters  freeze  it.  Just  now  it  is 
after  your  neighbor;  to-morrow  it  will  be  after 
you.  *It  is  the  healthiest  of  all  monsters.  Its 
tooth  knocks  out  the  "tooth  of  time."  Its  hair 
never  turns  white  with  age,  nor  does  it  limp 
with  decrepitude.  It  is  distinguished  for  its 
longevit}'. 

THE  LENGTH  OF  ITS  LEGS. 

It  keeps  up  with  the  express  train,  and  is  present 
at  the  opening  and  the  shutting  of  the  mailbags. 
It  takes  a  incoming  run  from  New  York  to  San 
Francisco  or  over  to  London  before  breakfast.  It 
can  go  a  thousand  miles  at  a  jump.  It  would 
despise  seven-league  boots  as  tedious.  A  tele- 
graph pole  is  just  knee-high  to  this  monster,  and 
from  that  you  can  judge  its  speed  of  locomotion. 
It  never  gets  out  of  wind,  carries  a  bag  of  reputa- 
tions made  up  in  cold  hash,  so  that  it  does  not 
have  to  stop  for  victuals.  It  goes  so  fast  that 
sometimes  five  million  people  have  seen  it  the 
same  morning. 

KEENNESS  OF  NOSTEIL. 

It  can  smell  a  moral  imperfection  fifty  miles 
away.     The  crow  has  no  faculty  compared  with 


A  Lie,  Zoologically  Co7isidered .         67 

this  for  finding  carrion.  It  has  scented  some- 
thing a  hundred  miles  off,  and  before  night 
* '  treed' '  its  game.  It  lias  a  great  genius  for  smell- 
ing. It  can  find  more  than  is  actually  there. 
When  it  begins  to  snuff  the  air,  you  had  Vjetter 
look  out.  It  has  great  length  and  breadth  and 
depth  and  height  of  nose. 

ACUTENESS   OF  EAR. 

The  rabbit  has  no  such  power  to  listen  as  this 
creature  we  speak  of.  It  hears  all  the  sounds 
that  come  from  five  thousand  keyholes.  It  catches 
a  whisper  from  the  other  side  the  room,  and  can 
understand  the  scratch  of  a  pen.  It  has  one  ear 
open  toward  the  east  and  the  other  toward  the 
west,  and  hears  everything  in  both  directions. 
All  the  tittle-tattle  of  the  world  pours  into  those 
ears  like  vinegar  through  a  funnel.  They  are 
always  up  and  open,  and  to  them  a  meeting  of 
the  sewing  society  is  a  jubilee  and  a  political  cam- 
paign is  heaven. 

SIZE  OF  THROAT. 

The  snake  has  hard  work  to  choke  down  a 
toad,  and  the  crocodile  has  a  mighty  struggle  to 
take  in  the  calf;  but  the  monster  of  which  I 
speak  can  swallow  anything.  It  has  a  throat 
bigger  than  the  whale  that  took  down  the  minister 
who  declined  the  call  to  Nineveh,  and  has  swal- 
lowed whole  presbyteries  and  conferences  of 
clergymen.  A  Brobdingnagian  goes  down  as 
easily  as  a  Liliputian.  The  largest  story  about 
business  dishonor,  or  female  frailty,  or  political 
deception,  slips  through  with  the  ease  of  a 
homoeopathic  pellet.  Its  throat  is  sufficient  for 
anything  round,  or  square,  or  angular,  or  octagonal. 

Nothing  in  all  the  earth  is  too  big  for  its  mas- 
tication and  digestion  save  the  truth,  and  that 
will  stick  in  its  gullet. 


68  Around  the  Tea-table. 

IT   IS  GREGAKIOUS. 

It  goes  in  a  flock  with  others  of  its  kind.  If 
one  takes  after  a  man  or  woman,  there  are  at 
least  ten  in  its  company.  As  soon  as  anything 
bad  is  charged  against  *a  man,  there  are  many 
others  who  know  things  just  as  deleterious.  Lies 
about  himself,  lies  about  his  wife,  lies  about  his 
children,  lies  about  his  associates,  lies  about  his 
house,  lies  about  his  barn,  lies  about  his  store — 
swarms  of  them,  broods  of  them,  herds  of  them. 
Kill  one  of  them,  and  there  will  be  twelve  alive 
to  act  as  its  pall-bearers,  another  to  preach  its 
funeral  sermon,  and  still  another  to  write  its 
obituary. 

These  monsters  beat  all  the  extinct  species. 
They  are  white,  spotted  and  black.  They  have 
a  sfeek  hide,  a  sharp  claw  and  a  sting  in  their 
tail.  They  prowl  through  every  street  of  the 
city,  craunch  in  the  restaurants,  sleep  in  the  hall 
of  Congress,  and  in  grandest  parlor  have  one  paw 
under  the  piano,  another  under  the  sofa,  one  by 
the  mantel  and  the  other  on  the  door-sill. 

Now,  many  people  spend  half  their  time  in 
hunting  lies.  You  see  a  man  iTishing  anxiously 
about  to  correct  a  newspaper  paragraph,  or  a  hus- 
band, with  fist  clenched,  on  the  way  to  pound 
some  one  who  has  told  a  false  thing  about  his 
wife.  There  is  a  woman  on  the  next  street  who 
heard,  last  Monday,  a  falsehood  about  her  hus- 
band, and  has  had  her  hat  and  shawl  on  ever 
since  in  the  effort  to  correct  wrong  impressions. 
Our  object  in  this  zoological  sketch  of  a  lie  is  to 
persuade  you  of  the  folly  of  such  a  hunting  ex- 
cursion. *If  these  monsters  have  such  long  legs, 
and  go  a  hundred  miles  at  a  jump,  you  might  as 
well  give  up  the  chase.  If  they  have  such  keen- 
ness of  nostril,  they  can  smell  you  across  the 
State,  and  get  out  of  your  way.     K  they  have  such 


A  Lie,  Zoologically  Considered,         69 

long  ears,  they  can  hear  the  hunter's  first  step  in 
the  woods.  If  they  have  such  great  throats,  they 
can  swallow  you  at  a  gape.  If  they  are  gregarious, 
while  you  shoot  one,  forty  will  run  upon  you 
like  mad  bufifaloes,  and  trample  you  to  death. 
Arrows  bound  back  from  their  thick  hide; 
and  as  for  gunpow^der,  they  use  it  regularly  for 
pinches  of  snuff.  After  a  shower  of  bullets  has 
struck  their  side,  they  lift  their  hind  foot  to 
scratch  the  place,  supposing  a  black  fly  has  been 
biting.  Henry  the  Eighth,  in  a  hawking  party, 
on  foot,  attenipted  to  leap  a  ditch  in  Hertforci- 
shire,  and  with  his  immense  avoirdupois  weight 
went  splashing  into  the  mud  and  slime,  and  was 
hauled  out  by  his  footman  half  dead.  And  that 
is  the  fate  of  men  who  spend  their  time  hunting 
for  lies.  Better  go  to  your  w^ork,  and  let  the  lies 
run.  Their  bloody  muzzles  have  tough  work  with 
a  man  usefully  busy.  You  cannot  so  easily  over- 
come them  with  sharp  retort  as  with  adze  and 
yardstick.  All  the  bowlings  of  Californian  wolves 
at  night  do  not  stop  the  sun  from  kindling  vicr 
torious  morn  on  the  Sierra  Nevadas,  and  all  the 
ravenings  of  defamation  and  revenge  cannot  hin- 
der the  resplendent  dawn  of  heaven  on  a  righ- 
teous soul. 

But  they  who  spend  their  time  in  trying  to 
lasso  and  decapitate  a  lie  will  come  back  worsted, 
as  did  the  English  cockneys  from  a  fox  chase 
described  in  the  poem  entitled  ''Pills  to  Purge 
Melancholy : ' ' 
"And    when    they    had  done  their  sport,    they 

came  to  London,  where  they  dwell. 
Their  faces  all  so  torn  and  scratched  their   wiv6= 

scarce  knew  them  well ; 
For    'twas   a  very  great  mercy  so   many    'scaped 

alive. 
For  of  twenty  saddles  carried  out,  they  brought 

again  but  five. " 


CHAPTER  XII. 
A  BREATH  OF  ENGLISH  AIR. 

My  friend  looked  white  as  the  wall,  flung  the 
"London  Times"  half  across  the  room,  kicked 
one  slipper  into  the  air  and  shouted,  ''Talmage, 
where  ^n  earth  did  you  come  from?"  as  this 
summer  I  stepped  into  his  English  home.  "Just 
come  over  the  ferry  to  dine  with  you,"  I  re- 
sponded. After  some  explanation  about  the  health 
of  my  family,  which  demanded  a  sea  voyage,  and 
thus  necessitated  my  coming,  we  planned  two  or 
three  excursions. 

At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  gathered  in 
the  parlor  in  the  Red  Horse  Hotel,  at  Stratford- 
on-Avon.  Two  pictures  of  Washington  Irving, 
the  chair  in  which  the  father  of  American  liter- 
ature sat,  and  the  table  on  which  he  wrote,  im- 
mortalizing his  visit  to  that  hotel,  adorn  the 
room.  From  thence  we  sallied  forth  to  see  the 
clean,  quaint  vihage  of  Stratford.  It  was  built 
just  to  have  Shakspeare  born  in.  We  have  not 
heard  that  there  was  any  one  else  ever  born  there, 
before  or  since.  If,  by  any  strange  possibility, 
it  could  be  proved  that  the'  great  dramatist  was 
born  anywhere  else,  it  would  ruin  all  the  cab 
drivers,  guides  and  hostelries  of  the  place. 

We  went  of  course  to  the  house  where  Shak- 
speare first  appeared  on  the  stage  of  life,  and 
enacted  the  first  act  of  his  first  play.  Scene  the 
first.  Enter  John  Shakspeare,  the  father;  Mrs. 
■Shakspeare,  the  mother,  and  the  old  nurse, 
with  young  William. 

A  very  plain  house  it  is.  Like  the  lark,  which 
soars  highest,  but  builds  its  nest  lowest,  so  with 

70 


A  Breath  of  English  Air.  71 

genius ;  it  has  humble  beginnings.  I  think  ten  ' 
thousand  dollars  would  be  a  large  appraisement 
for  all  the  houses  where  the  great  poets  were  born. 
But  all  the  world  comes  to  this  lowly  dwelling.  ■ 
Walter  Scott  was  glad  to  scratch  his  name  on 
the  window,  and  you  may  see  it  now.  Charles 
Dickens,  Edmund  Kean,  Albert  Smith,  Mark 
Lemon  and  Tennyson,  so  very  sparing  of  their 
autographs,  have  left  their  signatures  on  the  wall. 
There  are  the  jambs  of  the  old  fire-place  where 
the  poet  warmed  himself  and  combed  wool,  and 
began  to  think  for  all  time.  Here  is  the  chair  in 
M'hich  he  sat  Avhile  presiding  at  the  club,  form- 
ing habits  of  drink  which  killed  him  at  the  last, 
his  own  life  ending  in  a  tragedy  as  terrible  as  any 
he  ever  wrote.  Exeunt  wine-bibbers,  topers, 
grogshop  keepers,  Drayton,  Ben  Jonson  and  Wil- 
liam Shakspeare.  Here  also  is  the  letter  which 
Richard  Quyney  sent  to  Shakspeare,  asking  to 
borrow  thirty  pounds.  I  hope  he  did  not  loan  it ; 
for  if  he  did,  it  was  a  dead  loss. 

We  went  to  the  church  where  the  poet  is  buried. 
It  dates  back  seven  hundred  j^ears,  but  has  been 
often  restored.  It  has  many  pictures,  and  is  the 
sleeping  place  of  many  distinguished  dead ;  but 
one  tomb  within  the  chancel  absorbs  all  the  atten- 
tion of  the  stranger.  For  hundreds  of  years  the 
world  has  looked  upon  the  unadorned  stone  lying 
flat  over  the  dust  of  William  Shakspeare,  and  read 
the  epitaph  written  by  himself: 

''Good  friend,  for  Jesus'  sake  forbeare 
To  dig  the  dust  enclosed  here ; 
Bleste  be  ye  man  yt  spares  these  stones. 
And  curst  be  he  that  moves  my  bones. ' ' 

Under  such  anathema  the  body  has  slept  se- 
curely. A  sexton  once  looked  in  at  the  bones,  but 
did  not  dare  to  touch  them,  lest  his  "quietus" 
should  be  made  with  a  bare  bodkin. 


72  Around  the  Tea-table. 

From  the  church  door  we  mounted  our  car- 
riage; and  crossing  the  Avon  on  a  bridge  which 
the  lord  mayor  of  London  built  four  hundred 
years  ago,  we  start  on  one  of  the  most  memorable 
rides  of  our  life.  The  country  looked  fresh  and 
luxuriant  from  recent  rains.  The  close-trimmed 
hedges,  the  sleek  cattle,  the  snug  cottages,  the 
straggling  villages  with  their  historic  inns,  the 
castle  from  whose  park  Shakspeare  stole  the  deer, 
the  gate  called  "Shakspeare's  stile,"  curious  in 
the  fact  that  it  looks  like  ordinary  bars  of  fence, 
but  as  you  attempt  to  climb  over,  the  w^hole  thing 
gives  way,  and  lets  j-ou  fall  flat,  righting  itself 
as  soon  as  it  is  unburdened  of  you ;  the  rabbits 
darting  along  the  hedges,  undisturbed,  because  it 
is  unlawful,  save  for  licensed  hunters,  to  shoot, 
and  then  not  on  private  property ;  the  perfect 
weather,  the  blue  sky,  the  exhilarating  breeze, 
the  glorious  elms  and  oaks  by  the  way, — make  it 
a  day  that  will  live  when  most  other  days  are  dead. 

At  two  o'clock  we  came  in  sight  of  Kenilworth 
Castle.  Oh,  this  is  the  place  to  stir  the  blood. 
It  is  the  king  of  ruins.  Warwick  is  nothing, 
Melrose  is  nothing,  compared  with  it.  A  thou- 
sand great  facts  look  out  through  the  broken  win- 
dows. Earls  and  kings  and  queens  sit  along  the 
shattered  sides  of  the  banqueting  halls.  The  stairs 
are  worn  deep  with  the  feet  that  have  clambered 
them  for  eight  hundred  years.  As  a  loving 
daughter  arranges  the  dress  of  an  old  man,  so 
every  season  throws  a  thick  mantle  of  ivy  over 
the  mouldering  wall.  The  roof  that  caught  and 
echoed  back  the  merriment  of  dead  ages  has  per- 
ished. Time  has  struck  his  chisel  into  every  inch 
of  the  structure.  By  the  payment  of  only  three- 
pence you  find  access  to  places  where  only  the 
titled  Mere  once  permitted  to  walk.  You  go  in, 
and  are  overwhelmed  with  the  thoughts  of  past 
glory  and  present  decay.     These  halls  were  prom- 


A  Breath  of  Eyiglish  Air.  73 

enadai  by  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion ;  in  this  chapel 
burned  tfie  tomb  lights  over  the  grave  of  Geoffrey 
de  Clinton  ;  in  these  dungeons  kings  groaned  ;  in 
these  doorways  duchesses  fainted.  .Scene  of  gold, 
and  silver,  and  scroll  work,  and  chiseled  arch, 
and  mosaic.  Here  were  heard  the  carousals  of 
the  Round  Table;  from  those  very  stables  the 
caparisoned  horses  came  prancing  out  for  the 
tournament ;  through  that  gateway  strong,  weak, 
heroic,  mean,  splendid,  Queen  Elizabeth  advanced 
to  the  castle,  while  the  waters  of  the  lake  gleamed 
under  torchlights,  and  the  battlements  were  atlame 
with  rockets ;  and  cornet,  and  hautboy,  and 
trumpet  poured  their  music  on  the  aiV;  and 
goddesses  glided  out  from  the  groves  to  meet 
her;  and  from  turret  to  foundation  Kenilwortli 
trembled  under  a  cannonade,  and  for  seventeen 
days,  at  a  cost  of  five  thousand  dollars  a  day,  the 
festival  was  kept.  Four  hundred  servants  stand- 
ing in  costly  livery ;  sham  battles  between  knights 
on  horseback;  jugglers  tumljling  on  the  gras^; 
thirteen  bears  baited  for  the  amusement  of  the 
guests;  three  hundred  and  twenty  hogsheads  <  i 
beer  consumed,  till  all  Europe  applauded,  de- 
nounced and  stood  amazed. 

Where  is  the  glory  now?  What  has  become  of 
the  velvet?  Who  w^ears  the  jewels?  Would  Amy 
Robsart  have  so  longed  to  get  into  the  castle  had 
she  known  its  coming  ruin?  Where  are  those 
who  were  waited  on,  and  those  who  waited? 
What  has  become  of  Elizabeth,  the  visitor,  and 
Robert  Dudley,  the  visited?  Cromwell's  men 
dashed  upon  the  scene ;  they  drained  the  lakes ; 
they  befouled  the  banquet  hall ;  they  dismantled 
the  towers ;  they  turned  the  castle  into  a  tomb, 
on  whose  scarred  and  riven  sides  ambition  and 
cruelty  and  lust  may  well  read  their  doom.  "So 
let  all  thine  enem'ies  perish,  O  Lord ;  but  let 
them  that  love  him  be  as  the  sun  when  he  goeth 
forth  in  his  might. ' ' 


CHAPTER  Xlir. 
THE  MIDNIGHT  LECTURE. 

At  eight  o'clock  precisely,  on  consecutive  nights, 
■^'e  stepped  on  the  rostrum  at  Chicago,  Zanesville, 
Indianapolis,  Detroit,  Jacksonville,  Cleveland  and 
Bufi'alo.  But  it  seemed  that  Dayton  was  to  \ye 
a  failure.  We  telegraphed  from  Indianapolis, 
*' Missed  connection.  Cannot  possibly  meet  en- 
gagement at  Dayton. ' '  Telegram  came  back  say- 
ing, * '  Take  a  locomotive  and  come  on ! "  We 
C'ouid  not  get  a  locomotive.  Another  telegram 
•arrived:  "Mr.  Gale,  the  superintendent  of  rail- 
road, will  send  you  in  an  extra  train.  Go  imme- 
•diately  to  the  depot  I"  We  gathered  up  our  traps 
from  the  hotel  floor  and  sofa,  and  hurled  them  at 
"the  satchel.  They  would  not  go  in.  We  put  a 
collar  in  our  hat,  and  the  shaving  apparatus  in 
our  coat  pccket ;  got  on  the  satchel  with  both  feet, 
and  declared  the  thing  should  go  shut  if  it  split 
•everything  between  Indianapolis  and  Dayton. 
Arriving  at  the  dejwt,  the  train  was  ready.  We 
had  a  locomotive  and  one  car.  There  were  six  of 
us  on  the  train — namely,  the  engineer  and  stoker 
on  the  locomotive  ;  while  following  were  the  con- 
ductor, a  brakeman  at  each  end  of  the  car,  and 
the  pastor  of  a  heap  of  ashes  on  Schermerhorii 
street,  Brooklyn.  ' '  When  shall  we  get  to  Day- 
ton?" we  asked.  "Half -past  nine  o'clock!"  re- 
sponded the  conductor.  "Absurd!"  we  said; 
"noaudience  will  wait  till  half-past  nine  at  night 
for  a  lecturer. ' ' 

Away  we  flew.  The  ear,  having  such  a  light 
load,  frisked  and  kicked,  and  made  merry  of  a 
journey  that  to  us  was  becoming  very  grave.     Go- 

74 


The  Midnight  Lecture.  75 

ing  round  a  sharp  curve  at  break-neck  speed,  we 
felt  inclined  to  suggest  to  the  conductor  that  it 
would  make  no  especial  difference  if  we  did  not 
get  to  Dayton  till  a  quarter  to  ten.  The  night 
was  cold,  and  the  hard  ground  thundered  and 
cracked.  The  bridges,  instead  of  roaring,  as  is 
their  wont,  had  no  time  to  give  any  more  than  a 
grunt  as  we  struck  them  and  passed  on.  At  times 
it  was  so  rough  we  were  in  doubt  as  to  whether 
we  were  on  the  track  or  taking  a  short  cut  across 
the  field  to  get  to  our  destination  a  little  sooner. 
The  flagmen  would  hastily  open  their  windows 
and  look  at  the  screeching  train.  The  whistle 
blew  wildly,  not  so  much  to  give  the  villages 
warning  as  to  let  them  know  that  something  ter- 
rible had  gone  through.  Stopped  to  take  in  wood 
and  water.  A  crusty  old  man  crawled  out  of  a 
depot,  and  said  to  the  engineer,  *'Jim,  what 
on  earth  is  the  matter?"  "Don't  know,"  said 
Jim  ;  ' '  that  fellow^  in  the  car  yonder  is  bound  to 
get  to  Dayton,  and  we  are  putting  things  through.' ' 
Brakes  lifted,  bell  rung,  and  off  again.  Amid 
the  rush  and  pitch  of  the  train  there  was  no 
chance  to  prepare  our  toilet,  and  no  looking-glass, 
and  it  was  ciuite  certain  that  we  _  would  have  to 
step  from  the  train  immediately  into  the  lectur- 
ing hall.  We  were  unfit  to  be  seen.  We  were 
sure  our  hair  was  parted  in  five  or  six  difi'erent 
places,  and  that  the  cinders  had  put  our  face  in 
mourning,  and  that  something  must  be  done. 
What  time  we  could  spare  from  holding  on  to 
the  bouncing  seat  we  gave  to  our  toilet,  and  the 
arrangements  we  macle,  though  far  from  satis- 
factory, satisfied  our  conscience  that  we  had  done 
what  we  could.  A  button  broke  as  we  w^ere  fast- 
ening our  collar — indeed,  a  button  always  does 
break  M'hen  you  are  in  a  hurry  and  nobody  to 
sew  it  on.  "How  long  before  we  get  there;?" 
we  anxiously  asked.     "I  have  miscalculated," 


76  Aroimd  the  Tea-table. 

said  the  conductor ;  "we  cannot  get  there  till  five 
minutes  of  ten  o'clock."  "My  dear  man,"  I 
cried,  "you  might  as  well  turn  round  and  go 
back ;  the  audience  will  be  gone  long  before  ten 
o'clock."  "No!"  said  the  conductor;  "at  the 
last  depot  I  got  a  telegram  saying  they  are  wait- 
ing patiently,  and  telling  us  to  hurry  on. ' '  The 
locomotive  seemed  to  feel  it  was  on  the  home 
stretch.  At  times,  what  with  the  whirling  smoke 
and  the  showering  sparks,  and  the  din,  and  rush, 
and  bang,  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  on  our  last 
ride,  and  that  the  brakes  would  not  fall  till  we 
stopped  for  ever. 

At  fiive  minutes  of  ten  o'clock  we  rolled  into 
the  Dayton  depot,  and  before  the  train  came  to 
a  halt  we  were  in  a  carriage  with  the  lecturing 
committee,  going  at  the  horse's  full  run  toward 
the  opera  house.  Without  an  instant  in  which  to 
slacken  our  pulses,  the  chairman  rushed  in  upon 
the  stage,  and  introduced  the  lecturer  of  the  even- 
ing. After  in  the  quickest  way  shedding  over- 
coat and  shawl,  we  confronted  the  audience,  and 
with  our  head  yet  swimming  from  the  motion  of 
the  rail-train,  we  accosted  the  people — many  of 
whom  had  been  waiting  since  seven  o'clock — with 
the  words,  "Long-sufiering  but  patient  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  you  are  the  best-natured  audience  I 
ever  saw. ' '  "  When  we  concluded  what  we  had  to 
say,  it  was  about  midnight,  and  hence  the  title 
of  this  little  sketch. 

We  would  have  felt  it  more  worthy  of  the  rail- 
road chase  if  it  had  been  a  sermon  rather  than  a 
lecture.  Why  do  not  the  Young  Men's  Christian 
Associations  of  the  country  intersperse  religious 
discourses  with  the  secular,  the  secular  demand- 
ing an  admission  fee,  the  religious  without 
money  or  price?  If  such  associations  would  take 
as  fine  a  hall,  and  pay  as  much  for  advertising, 
the  audience  to  hear  the  sermon  would  be  as  large 


The  Midnight  Lecture.  77 

as  the  audience  to  hear  the  lecture.  What  con- 
secrated minister  would  not  rather  tell  the  story 
of  Christ  and  heaven  free  of  charge  than  to  get 
five  hundred  dollars  for  a  secular  address?  Wake 
up,  Young  Men's  Christian  Associations,  to  your 
glorious  opportunity.  It  would  afford  a  pleasing 
change.  Let  Wendell  Phillips  give  in  the  course 
his  great  lecture  on  "The  Lost  Arts;"  and  A.  A. 
Willitts  speak  on  "Sunshine,"  himself  the  best 
illustration  of  his  subject ;  and  Mr.  Milburn,  by 
* '  What  a  Blind  Man  Saw  in  England, ' '  almost 
prove  that  eyes  are  a  superfluity ;  and  W.  H.  H. 
Murray  talk  of  the  "Adirondacks,  "  till  you  caa 
hear  the  rifle  crack  and  the  fall  of  the  antlers  on 
the  rock.  But  in  the  very  midst  of  all  this  have 
a  religious  discourse  that  shall  show  that  holiness 
is  the  lost  art,  and  that  Christ  is  the  sunshine, 
and  that  the  gospel  helps  a  blind  man  to  see,  and 
that  from  Pisgah  and  Mount  Zion  there  is  a  better 
prospect  than  from  the  top  of  fifty  Adirondacks. 

As  for  ourselves,  save  in  rare  and  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances, good-bye  to  the  lecturing  platform, 
w  hile  we  try  for  the  rest  of  our  life  to  imitate  the 
minister  who  said,  "This  one  thing  I  do!" 
There  are  exhilarations  about  lecturing  that  one 
finds  it  hard  to  break  from,  and  many  a  minister 
who  thought  himself  reformed  of  lecturing  has, 
over-tempted,  gone  up  to  the  American  Library 
or  Boston  Lyceum  Bureau,  and  drank  down  raw, 
a  hundred  lecturing  engagements.  Still,  a  man 
once  in  a  while  finds  a  new  pair  of  spectacles  to 
look  through. 

Between  Indianapolis  and  Dayton,  on  that 
wild,  swift  ride,  we  found  a  moral  which  we 
close  with — for  the  printer-boy  with  inky  fingers 
is  waiting  for  this  paragraph — Never  take  the  last 
train  when  you  can  help  it.  Much  of  the  trouble 
in  life  is  caused  by  the  fact  that  people,  in  their 
engagements,    wait    tiP    the    last     minute.     The 


78  Around  the  Tea-table. 

seven-o'clock  train  Tsill  take  them  to  the  right 
place  if  everything  goes  straight,  but  in  this  world 
things  are  very  apt  to  go  crooked.  So  you  had 
better  take  the  train  that  starts  an  hour  earlier. 
In  everything  we  undertake  let  us  leave  a  little 
margin.  We  tried,  jokingly,  to  persuade  Cap- 
tain Berry,  when  off  Cape  Hatteras,  to  go  down 
and  get  his  breakfast,  while  we  took  his  place 
and  watched  the  course  of  the  steamer.  He 
intimated  to  us  that  we  were  running  too  near 
the  bar  to  allow  a  greenhorn  to  manage  matters 
just  there.  There  is  always  danger  in  sailing 
near  a  coast,  whether  in  ship  or  in  plans  and 
morals.  Do  not  calculate  too  closely  on  possi- 
bilities. Better  have  room  and  time  to  spare. 
Do  not  take  the  last  train.  Xot  heeding  this 
counsel  makes  bad  work  for  this  world  and  the 
next.  There  are  many  lines  of  communication 
between  earth  and  heaven.  Men  say  they  can 
start  at  any  time.  After  a  while,  in  great  excite- 
ment, they  rush  into  the  depot  of  mercy  and 
find  that  the  final  opportunity  has  left,  and,  be- 
hold !  it  is  the  last  train ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  SEXTON. 

King  David,  it  is  evident,  once  thought  some- 
thing of  becoming  a  church  sexton,  for  he  said, 
"I  had  rather  be  a  doorkeejjer, "  and  so  on.  But 
he  never  carried  out  the  plan,  perhaps  because 
he  had  not  the  qualification.  It  requires  more 
talent  in  some  respects  to  be  sexton  than  to  be 
king.  A  sexton,  like  a  poet,  is  born.  A  church, 
in  order  to  peace  and  success,  needs  the  right 
kind  of  man  at  the  prow,  and  the  right  kind  at 
the  stern — that  is,  a  good  minister  and  a  good 
sexton.  So  far  as  we  have  observed,  there  are 
four  kinds  of  janitors. 

THE   FIDGETY   SEXTON. 

He  is  never  still.  His  being  in  any  one  place 
proves  to  him  that  he  ought  to  be  in  some  other. 
In  the  most  intense  part  of  the  service,  every 
ear  alert  to  the  truth,  the  minister  at  the  very- 
climax  of  his  subject,  the  fidgety  official  starts 
up  the  aisle.  The  whole  congregation  instantly 
turn  from  the  consideration  of  judgment  and 
eternity  to  see  what  the  sexton  wants.  The 
minister  looks,  the  elders  look,  the  people  in  the 
gallery  get  up  to  look.  It  is  left  in  universal 
doubt  as  to  why  the  sexton  frisked  about  at  just 
that  moment.  He  must  have  seen  a  fly  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  church  wall  that  needed  to 
be  driven  ofl*  before  it  spoiled  the  fresco,  or  he 
may  have  suspicion  that  a  rat  terrier  is  in  one  of 
the'  pews  by  the  pulpit,  from  the  fact  that  he 
saw  two  or  three  children  laughing.  Now,  there 
is  nothing   more   perplexing  than   a   dog   chase 

79 


8o  Aroinid  the  Tea-table. 

during  religious  services.  At  a  prayer  meeting 
once  in  my  house,  a  snarling  peodle  came  in, 
looked  around,  and  then  went  and  sat  under  the 
chair  of  its  owner.  We  had  no  objection  to  its 
being  there  (dogs  should  not  be  shut  out  from 
all  advantages),  but  the  intruder  would  not  keep 
quiet.  A  brother  of  dolorous  whine  was  engaged 
in  prayer,  when  poodle  evidently  thought  that 
the  time  for  response  had  come,  and  gave  a  loud 
yawn  that  had  no  tendency  to  solemnize  the 
occasion.  I  resolved  to  endure  it  no  longer.  I 
started  to  extirpate  the  nuisance.  I  made  a  fear- 
ful pass  of  my  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  dog, 
but  missed  him.  A  lady  arose  to  give  me  a  bet- 
ter chance  at  the  vile  pup,  but  I  discovered  that 
he  had  changed  position.  I  felt  by  that  time 
obstinately  determined  to  eject  him.  He  had 
got  under  a  rocking  chair,  at  a  point  beyond  our 
reach,  unless  we  got  on  our  knees ;  and  it  being 
a  prayer  meeting,  we  felt  no  inappropriateness  in 
taking  that  position.  Of  course  the  exercise  had 
meanwhile  been  suspended,  and  the  eyes  of  all 
were  upon  my  undertaking.  The  elders  wished 
me  all  success  in  this  police  duty,  but  the  mis- 
chievous lads  by  the  door  were  hoping  for  my 
failure.  Knowing  this  I  resolved  that  if  the  exer- 
cises were  never  resumed,  I  would  consummate 
the  work  and  eject  the  disturber.  While  in  this 
mood  I  gave  a  lunge  for  the  dog,  not  looking  to 
my  feet,  and  fell  over  a  rocker ;  but  there  were 
sympathetic  hands  to  help  me  up,  and  I  kept  on 
until  by  the  back  of  the  neck  I  grasped  the 
grizzly-headed  pup,  as  he  commenced  kicking, 
scratching,  barking,  yelping,  howling,  and  car- 
ried him  to  the  door  in  triumph,  and,  without 
any  care  as  to  where  he  landed,  hurled  him  out 
into  the  darkness. 

Give  my  love  to  the  sexton,  and  tell  him  never 
to  chase  a  dog  in  religious  service.     Better  let  it 


The  Sexton.  8i 

alone,  though  it  should,  like  my  friend's  poll- 
parrot,  during  prayer  time,  break  out  with  the 
song,  "I  would  not  live  alway  1"  But  the  fidgety 
sexton  is  ever  on  the  chase;  his  boots  are  apt 
to  be  noisy  and  say  as  he  goes  up  the  aisle, 
* '  Creakety- crack  !  Here  I  come.  Creakety-crack  I ' ' 
Why  should  he  come  in  to  call  the  doctor  out  of 
his  pew  when  the  case  is  not  urgent?  Cannot 
the  patient  wait  twenty  minutes,  or  is  this  the 
cheap  way  the  doctor  has  of  advertising?  Dr. 
Camomile  had  but  three  cases  in  three  months, 
and,  strange  coincidence,  they  all  came  to  him  at 
half-past  eleven  o'clock  Sunday  morning,  while 
he  was  in  church.  If  windows  are  to  be  lowered, 
or  blinds  closed,  or  register  to  be  shut  off,  let  it 
be  before  the  sermon. 

THE    LAZY   SEXTON. 

He  does  not  lead  the  stranger  to  the  pew,  but 
goes  a  little  way  on  the  aisle,  and  points,  saying, 
"Out  yonder!"  You  leave  the  photograph  of 
your  back  in  the  dust  of  the  seat  you  occupy  ;  the 
air  is  in  an  atmospheric  hash  of  what  was  left 
over  last  Sunday.  Lack  of  oxygen  will  dull  the 
best  sermon,  and  clip  the  wings  of  gladdest  song, 
and  stupefy  an  audience.  People  go  out  from  the 
poisoned  air  of  our  churches  to  die  of  pneumonia. 
What  a  sin,  when  there  is  so  much  fresh  air,  to 
let  people  perish  for  lack  of  it  I  The  churches 
are  the  worst  ventilated  buildings  on  the  conti- 
nent. No  amount  of  grace  can  make  stale  air 
sacred.  "The  prince  of  the  power  of  the  air" 
wants  nothing  but  poisoned  air  for  the  churches. 
After  audiences  have  assembled,  and  their  cheeks 
are  flushed,  and  their  respiration  has  become 
painful,  it  is  too  late  to  change  it.  Open  a  win- 
dow or  door  now,  and  you  ventilate  only  the  top 
of  that  man's  bald  head,  and  the  back  of  the 
neck  of  that  delicate  woman,  and  you  send  off 


82  Around  the  Tea-table. 

hundreds  of  people  coughing  and  sneezing.  One 
reason  why  the  hfabbaths  are  so  wide  apart  is  that 
every  church  building  may  have  six  days  of 
atmospheric  purification.  The  best  man's  breath 
once  ejected  is  not  worth  keeping.  Our  congrega- 
tions are  dying  of  asphyxia.  In  the  name  of  all 
the  best  interests  of  the' church,  I  indict  one-half 
the  sextons. 

THE  GOOD  SEXTON. 

He  is  the  minister's  blessing,  the  church's  joy, 
a  harbinger  of  the  millennium.  People  come  \o 
church  to  have  him  help  them  up  the  aisle.  He 
wears  slippers.  He  stands  or  sits  at  the  end  of 
the  church  during  an  impressive  discourse,  and 
feels  that,  though  he  did  not  furnish  the  ideas, 
he  at  least  furnished  the  wind  necessary  in 
preaching  it.  He  has  a  quick  nostril  to  detect 
unconsecrated  odors,  and  puts  the  man  who  eats 
garlic  on  the  back  seat  in  the  corner.  He  does 
not  regulate  the  heat  by  a  broken  thermometer, 
minus  the  mercury.  He  has  the  window  blinds 
arranged  just  right — the  light  not  too  glaring  so 
as  to  show  the  freckles,  nor  too  dark  so  as  to  cast 
a  gloom,  but  a  subdued  light  that  makes  the 
plainest  face  attractive.  He  rings  the  bell  merrily 
for  Christmas  festival,  and  tolls  it  sadly  for  the 
departed.  He  has  real  pity  for  the  bereaved  in 
whose  house  he  goes  for  the  purpose  of  burying 
their  dead — not  giving  by  cold,  professional  man- 
ner the  impression  that  his  sympathy  for  the 
troubled  is  overpowered  by  the'  joy  that  he  has 
in  selling  another  coffin.  '  He  forgets  not  his 
own  soul ;  and  though  his  place  is  to  stand  at  the 
door  of  the  ark,  it  is  surely  inside  of  it.  After 
a  M'hile,  a  Sabbath  comes  when  everything  is 
wrong  in  church :  the  air  is  impure,  the  furnaces 
fail  in  their  work,  and  the  eyes  of  the  people  are 
blinded    with   an   unpleasant   glare.     Everybody 


The  Sexton,  83 

asks,  "Where  is  our  old  sexton?'^  Alas!  he  will 
never  come  again.^  He  has  gone  to  join  Obed- 
edom  and  Berechiah,  the  doorkeepers  of  the 
ancient  ark.  He  will  never  again  take  the  dust- 
ing whisk  from  the  closet  under  the  church 
stairs,  for  it  is  now  with  him  "Dust  to  dust.'* 
The  bell  he  so  often  rang  takes  up  its  saddest  toll- 
ing for  him  who  used  to  pull  it,  and  the  minister 
goes  into  his  disordered  and  unswept  pulpit,  and 
finds  the  Bible  upside  down  as  he  takes  it  up  ta 
read  his  text  in  Psalms,  84th  chapter  and  10th 
verse :  "I  had  rather  be  a  doorkeeper  in  the  house 
of  mv  God  than  to  dwell  in  the  tents  of  wicked- 


CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  OLD  CRADLE. 

The  historic  and  old-time  cradle  is  dead,  and 
buried  in  the  rubbish  of  the  garret.  A  baby  of 
five  months,  filled  with  modern  notions,  would 
spurn  to  be  rocked  in  the  awkward  and  mstic 
thing.  The  baby  spits  the  "Alexandra  feeding- 
bottle"  out  of  its  mouth,  and  protests  against  the 
old-fushioned  cradle,  giving  emphasis  to  its  utter- 
ances by  throwing  down  a  rattle  that  cost  seven 
-dollars,  and  kicking  off  a  shoe  imported  at  fabu- 
lous expense,  and  upsetting  the  "baby-basket," 
with  all  its  treasures  of  ivory  hair  brushes  and 
*'Meen  Fun."  Not  with  voice,  but  by  violence 
of  gesture  and  kicks  and  squirms,  it  says:  "What! 
You  going  to  put  me  in  that  old  cradle?  Where 
is  the  nurse?  My  patience !  What  does  mother 
mean?    Get  me  a  'patented  self-rocker  I '  " 

The  parents  yield.  In  comes  the  new-fangled 
crib.  The  machine  is  wound  up,  the  baby  put 
in,  the  crib  set  in  motion,  and  mother  goes  off  to 
make  a  first-rate  speech  at  the  "Woman's  Rights 
Convention!" 

Conundrum :  Why  is  a  maternal  elocutionist  of 
this  sort  like  a  mother  of  old  time,  who  trained 
four  sons  for  the  holy  ministry,  and  through  them 
was  the  means  of  reforming  and  saving  a  thousand 
souls,  and  through  that  thousand  of  saving  ten 
thousand  more?  You  answer:  "No  resemblance 
at  all ! "  You  are  right.  Guessed  the  conundrum 
the  first  time.     Go  up  to  the  head  of  the  class! 

Now,  the  ' '  i^atented  self -rockers, ' '  no  doubt, 
have  their  proper  use ;  but  go  up  with  me  into 
the  garret  of  your  old  homestead,  and  exhume 

84 


The  Old  Cradle.  85 

the  cradle  that  you,  a  good  while  ago,  slept  in. 
The  rockers  are  somewhat  rough,  as  though  a 
farmer's  plane  had  fashioned  them,  and  the  sides 
just  high  enough  for  a  child  to  learn  to  walk  by. 
What  a  homely  thing,  take  it  all  in  alJ !  You 
say :  Stop  yourVlepreciation  1  We  were  all  rocked 
in  that.  For  about  fifteen  years  that  cradle  was 
going  much  of  the  time.  When  the  older  child 
was  taken  out,  a  smaller  child  was  put  in.  The 
crackle  of  the  rockers  is  pleasant  yet  in  my  ears. 
There  I  took  my  first  lessons  in  music  as  mother 
sang  to  me.  Have  heard  what  you  would  call 
far  better  singing  since  then,  but  none  that  so 
thoroughly  touched  me.  She  never  got  five  hun- 
dred dollars  per  night  for  singing  three  songs  at 
the  Academy,  with  two  or  three  encores  grudge- 
fully  thrown  in ;  but  without  pay  she  some- 
times sang  all  night,  and  came  out  whenever 
encored,  though  she  had  only  two  little  ears  for 
an  audience.  It  was  a  low,  subdued  tone  that 
sings  to  me  yet  across  thirty-five  years. 

You  see  the  edge  of  that  rocker  worn  quite 
deep?  That  is  where  her  foot  was  placed  while 
she  sat  with  her  knitting  or  sewing,  on  summer 
afternoons,  while  the  bees  hummed  at  the  door 
and  the  shout  of  the  boy  at  the  oxen  was  heard 
afield.  From  the  way  the  rocker  is  worn,  I  think 
that  sometimes  the  foot  must  have  been  very 
tired  and  the  ankle  very  sore ;  but  I  do  not  think 
she  stopped  for  that.  When  such  a  cradle  as  that 
got  a-going,  it  kept  on  for  years. 

Scarlet- fever  came  in  the  door,  and  we  all  had 
it;  and  oh,  how  the  cradle  did  go!  We  con- 
tended as  to  who  should  lie  in  it,  for  sickness, 
you  know,  makes  babies  of  us  all.  But  after  a 
while  we  surrendered  it  to  Charlie.  He  was  too 
old  to  lie  in  it,  but  he  seemed  so  ver}%  very  sick ; 
and  with  him  in  the  cradle  it  w^as  **Rock!" 
"Rock!"  "Rock!"     But  one  day,   just  as  long 


S6  A r mind  the  Tea-table. 

ago  as  you  can  remember,  the  cradle  stopped. 
When  a  child  is  asleep,  there  is  no  need  of  rock- 
ing. Charlie  was  asleep.  He  was  sound  asleep. 
Nothing  would  wake  him.  He  needed  taking  up. 
Mother  was  too  weak  to  do  it.  The  neighbors 
came  in  to  do  that,  and  put  a  flower,  fresh  out 
of  the  garden-dew,  between  the  two  still  hands. 
The  fever  had  gone  out  of  the  cheek,  and  left 
it  white,  very  white — the  rose  exchanged  for  the 
lily.  There  was  one  less  to  contend  for  the  cradle. 
It  soon  started  again,  and  with  a  voice  not  quite 
€0  firm  as  before,  but  more  tender,  the  old  song 
•came  back :  ' '  Bye !  bye !  bye  I ' '  which  meant 
more  to  you  than  '  *  11*  Trovatore, ' '  rendered  by 
■opera  troupe  in  the  presence  of  an  American 
audience,  all  leaning  forward  and  nodding  to 
show  how  well  they  understood  Italian. 

There  was  a  wooden  canopy  at  the  head  of  the 
old  cradle  that  somehow  got  loose  and  was  taken 
off.  But  your  infantile  mind  was  most  impressed 
with  the  face  which  much  of  the  time  hovered 
over  you.  Other  women  sometimes  looked  in  at 
the  child,  and  said:  "That  child's  hair  will  be 
red!"  or,  "What  a  peculiar  chin!"  or,  "Do  you 
think  that  child  will  live  to  grow  up?"  and 
although  you  were  not  old  enough  to  understand 
their  talkj  by  instinct  you  knew  it  was  something 
disagreeable,^  and  began  to  cry  till  the  dear,  sweet, 
familiar  face  again  hovered  and  the  rainbow 
arched  the  sky.  Oh,  we  never  get  away  from 
the  benediction  of  such  a  face!  It  looks  at  us 
through  storm  and  night.  It  smiles  all  to  pieces 
the  world's  frown.  After  thirty-five  years  of 
rough  tumbling  on  the  world's  couch,  it  puts  us 
in  the  cradle  again,  and  hushes  us  as  with  the 
very  lullaby  of  heaven. 

Let  the  old  cradle  rest  in  the  garret.  It  has 
earned  its  quiet.  The  hands  that  shook  up  its 
pillow  have  quit  work.     The  foot  that  kept  the 


The  Old  Cradle.  87 

jx)cker  in  motion  is  through  with  its  journey. 
The  face  that  hovered  has  been  veiled  from  mortal 
sight.  Cradle  of  blessed  memories !  Cradle  that 
soothed  so  many  little  griefs !  Cradle  that  kindled 
so  many  hopes!  Cradle  that  rested  so  many 
fatigues !  Sleep  now  thyself,  after  so  many  years 
of  putting  others  to  sleep  I 

One  of  the  great  wants  of  the  age  is  the  right 
kind  of  a  cradle  and  the  right  kind  of  a  foot  to 
rock  it.  We  are  opposed  to  the  usurpation  of 
*  *  patented  self -rockers. ' '  When  I  hear  a  boy  call- 
ing his  grandfather  ''old  daddy,"  and  see  the 
youngster  whacking  his  mother  across  the  face 
because  she  wdll  not  let  him  have  ice-cream  and 
lemonade  in  the  same  stomach,  and  at  some  refusal 
holding  his  breath  till  he  gets  black  in  the  face, 
so  that  to  save  the  child  from  tits  the  mother  is 
■compelled  to  give  him  another  dumpling,  and  he 
afterward  goes  out  into  the  world  stubborn,  will- 
ful, selfish  and  intractable, — I  say  that  boy  was 
brought  up  in  a  "patented  self-rocker."  The 
old-time  mother  would  have  put  him  down  in 
the  old-fashioned  cradle,  and  sung  to  him, 

"Hush,  my  dear,  lie  still  and  slumber, 
Holy  angels  guard  thy  bed;" 

and  if  that  did  not  take  the  spunk  out  of  him 
would  have  laid  him  in  an  inverted  position  across 
her  lap,  with  his  face  downward,  and  with  a  rous- 
ing spank  made  him  more  susceptible  to  the  music. 
When  a  mother,  who  ought  to  be  most  inter- 
ested in  training  her  children  for  usefulness  and 
heaven,  gives  her  chief  time  to  fixing  up  her 
back  hair,  and  is  worried  to  death  because  the 
curls  she  bought  are  not  of  the  same  shade  as  the 
sparsely-settled  locks  of  her  own  raising;  and 
"Culturing  the  dromedarian  hump  of  dry-goods  on 
-her  back  till,  as  she  comes  into  church,  a  good 
old  elder  bursts  into  laughter  behind  his  pocket- 


//  88  Aroujid  the  Tea-table. 

handkerchief,  making  the  merriment  sound  as 
much  like  a  sneeze  as  possible;  her  waking  mo- 
ments employed  with  discussions  about  polonaise, 
and  vert-de-gris  velvets,  and  ecru  percale,  and 
fringed  guipure,  and  poufs,  and  sashes,  and  rose- 
de-chene  silks,  and  scalloped  flounces;  her  hap- 
piness in  being  admired  at  balls  and  parties  and 
receptions, — you  may  know  that  she  has  thrown 
off  the  care  of  her  children,  that  they  are  looking 
after  themselves,  that  they  are  being  brought  up 
by  machinery  instead  Of  loving  hands — in  a'word, 
that  there  is  in  her  home  a ' '  patented  self- rocker ! ' ' 

So  far  as  possible,  let  all  women  dress  beauti- 
fully :  so  God  dresses  the  meadows  and  the  moun- 
tains. Let  them  wear  pearls  and  diamonds  if 
they  can  afford  it :  God  has  hung  round  the  neck 
of  his  world  strings  of  diamonds,  and  braided 
the  black  locks  of  the  storm  with  bright  ribbons 
of  rainbow.  Especially  before  and  right  after 
breakfast,  ere  they  expect  to  be  seen  of  the  world, 
let  them  look  neat  and  attractive  for  the  family's 
sake.  One  of  the  most  hideous  sights  is  a  slovenly 
woman  at  the  breakfast  table.  Let  woman  adorn 
herself.  Let  her  speak  on  platforms  so  far  as  she 
may  have  time  and  ability  to  do  so.  But  let  not 
mothers  imagine  that  there  is  any  new  way  of 
successfully  training  children,  or  of  escaping  the 
old-time  self-denial  and  continuous  painstaking. 

Let  this  be  the  commencement  of  the  law  suit : 
OLD  CR^iDLE 
versus 
PATENTED  SELF-ROCKER. 

Attorneys  for  plaintiff — all  the  cherished  mem- 
ories of  the  past. 

Attorneys  for  the  defendant— all  the  humbugs 
of  the  present. 

For  jury — the  good  sense  of  all  Christendom. 

Crier,  open  the  court  and  let  the  jury  be  em- 
paneled. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  HORSE'S  LETTER. 

[translated  for  the  tea-table.  ] 

Brooklyn  Livery  Stables, 

January  20,   1874, 

Mv  dear  Gentlemen  and  Ladies:  *I  am  aware 
that' this  is  the  first  time  a  horse  has  ever  taken 
upon  himself  to  ad<lress  any  member  of  the 
human  family.  True,  a  second  cousin  of  our 
household  once  addressed  Balaam,  but  his  voice 
for  puVjlic  speaking  was  so  poor  that  he  got  un- 
mercifully whacked,  and  never  tried  it  again. 
We  have  endured  in  silence  all  the  outrages  of 
many  thousands  of  years,  but  feel  it  now  time  to 
make  remonstrance.  *  Recent  attentions  have  made 
us  aware  of  our  worth.  During  the  epizootic 
epidemic  we  had  at  our  stables  innumerable  calls 
from  doctors  and  judges  and  clergymen.  Every- 
body asked  about  our  health.  Groomsmen  bathed 
our  'throats,  and  sat  up  with  us  nights,  and  fur- 
nished us  pocket-handkerchiefs.  For  the  first 
time  in  years  we  had  quiet  Sundays.  We  over- 
heard a  conversation  that  made  us  think  that  the 
commerce  and  the  fashion  of  the  world  waited 
the  news  from  the  stable.  Telegraphs  announced 
our  condition  across  the  land  and  under  the  sea, 
and  we  came  to  believe  that  this  Morld  was  origin- 
ally made  for  the  horse,  and  man  for  his 
groom. 

But  things  are  going  back  again  to  where  they 

were.     Yesterday    I    was    driven    fifteen   miles, 

jerked  in  the  mouth,  struck  on  the  back,  watered 

when   I  was   too  warm ;  and   instead  of  the  six 

89 


90  Around  the  Tea-table. 

quarts  of  oats  that  my  driver  ordered  for  me,  I 
got  two.  Last  week  1  was  driven  to  a  wedding, 
and  I  heard  music  and  quick  feet  and  laughter 
that  made  the  chandeliers  rattle,  while  I  stood 
iinblanketed  in  the  cold.  Sometimes  the  doctor 
hires  me,  and  I  stand  at  twenty  doors  waiting  for 
invalids  to  rehearse  all  their  pains.  Then  the 
minister  hires  me,  and  I  have  to  stay  till  Mrs. 
Tittle-Tattle  has  time  to  tell  the  dominie  all  the 
disagreeable  things  of  the  parish. 

The  other  night,  after  our  owner  had  gone 
home  and  the  hostlers  were  asleep,  we  held  an 
indignation  meeting  in  our  livery  stable.  "Old 
Sorrel"  presided,  and  there  was  a  long  line  of 
vice-presidents  and  secretaries,  mottled  bays  and 
dappled  grays  and  chestnuts,  and  Shetland  and 
Arabian  ponies.  "Charley,"  one  of  the  old  in- 
habitants of  the  stable,  began  a  speech,  amid 
great  stamping  on  the  part  of  the  audience.  But 
he  soon  broke  down  for  lack  of  wind.  For  five 
years  he  had  been  suffering  with  the  "heaves." 
Then  ' '  Pompey, ' '  a  venerable  nag,  took  his  place ; 
and  though  he  had  nothing  to  say,  he  held  out 
his  spavined  leg,  which  dramatic  posture  excited 
the  utmost  enthusiasm  of  the  audience.  "Fanny 
Shetland, ' '  the  property  of  a  lady,  tried  to  damage 
the  meeting  by  saying  that  horses  had  no  wrongs. 
She  said,  "Just  look  at  my  embroidered  blanket. 
I  never  go  out  when  the  weather  is  bad.  Every- 
body who  comes  near  pats  me  on  the  shoulder. 
What  can  be  more  beautiful  than  going  out  on  a 
sunshiny  afternoon  to  make  an  excursion  through 
the  park,  amid  the  clatter  of  the  hoofs  of  the 
stallions?  I  walk,  or  pace,  or  canter,  or  gallop, 
as  I  choose.  Think  of  the  beautiful  life  we  live, 
with  the  prospect,  after  our  easy  work  is  done, 
of  going  up  and  joining  Elijah's  horses  of 
fire/' 

I^ext,  I  took  the  floor,    and   said   that   I   was 


A  Horse's  Letter.  91 

born  in  a  warm,  snug  Pennsylvania  barn ;  was, 
on  my  father's  side,  descended  from  Bucephalus ; 
on  my  mother's  side,  from  a  steed  that  Queen 
Elizabeth  rode  in  a  steeple  chase.  My  youth  was 
passed  in  clover  pastures  and  under  trusses  of 
sweet-smelling  hay.  I  flung  my  heels  in  glee  at 
the  farmer  when  he  came  to  catch  me.  But  on 
a  dark  day  I  was  over-driven,  and  my  joints 
stitfened,  and  my  fortunes  went  down,  'and  my 
whole  family  was  sold.  My  brother,  with  head 
down  and  sprung  in  the  knees,  pulls  the  street 
car.  My  sister  makes  her  living  on  the  tow 
path,  hearing  the  canal  boys  swear.  My  aunt 
died  of  the  epizootic.  My  uncle — blind,  and 
afflicted  with  the  bots,  the  ringbone  and  the 
spring-halt — wanders  about  the  commons,  trying 
to  persuade  somebody  to  shoot  him.  And  here  I 
stand,  old  and  sick,  to  cry  out  against  the  wrongs 
of  horses — the  saddles  that  gall,  the  spurs  that 
prick,  the  snaffles  that  pinch,  the  loads  that 
kill. 

At  this  a  vicious-looking  nag,  with  mane  half 
pulled  out,  and  a  "watch-eye,"  and  feet  "inter- 
fering," and  a  tail  from  which  had  been  sub- 
tracted enough  hair  to  make  six  "waterfalls," 
squealed  out  the  suggestion  that  it  was  time  for 
a  rebellion,  and  she  moved  that  we  take  the  field, 
and  that  all  those  who  could  kick  should  kick, 
and  that  all  those  who  could  bite  should  bite, 
and  that  all  those  who  could  bolt  should  bolt, 
and  that  all  those  who  could  run  away  should 
run  away,  and  that  thus  we  fill  the  land  with 
broken  wagons  and  smashed  heads,  and  teach  our 
oppressors  that  the  day  of  retribution  has  come, 
and  that  our  down-trodden  race  will  no  more  be 
trifled  with. 

When  this  resolution  was  put  to  vote,  not  one 
said  "Aye,"  but  all  cried  "Nay,  nay,"  and  for 
the  space  of   half  an    hour    kept  on  neighing. 


92  Aromid  the  Tea-table. 

Instead  of  this  harsh  measure,  it  was  voted  that, 
by  the  hand  of  Henry  Bergh,  president  of  the 
Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals, 
I  should  write  this  letter  of  remonstrance. 

My  dear  gentlemen  and  ladies,  remember  that 
we,  like  yourselves,  have  moods,  and  cannot 
always  be  frisky  and  cheerful.  You  do  not  slap 
your  grandmother  in  the  face  because  this  morn- 
ing she  does  not  feel  as  well  as  usual ;  why,  then 
do  you  slash  us?  Before  you  pound  us,  ask 
whether  we  have  been  up  late  the  night  before, 
or  had  our  meals  at  irregular  hours,  or  whether 
our  spirits  have  been  depressed  by  being  kicked 
by  a  drunken  hostler.  We  have  only  about  ten 
or  twelve  years  in  which  to  enjoy  ourselves,  and 
then  we  go  out  to  be  shot  into  nothingness.  Take 
care  of  us  while  you  may.  Job's  horse  was 
' '  clothed  with  thunder, ' '  but  all  we  ask  is  a  plain 
blanket.  When  we  are  sick,  put  us  in  a  "horse- 
pital."  Do  not  strike  us  when  we  stumble  or 
scare.  Suppose  you  were  in  the  harness  and  I 
were  in  the  wagon,  I  had  the  whip  and  you  the 
traces,  what  an  ardent  advocate  you  would  be  for 
kindness  to  the  irrational  creation!  Do  not  let 
the  blacksmith  drive  the  nail  into  the  quick 
when  he  shoes  me,  or  burn  my  fetlocks  with  a 
hot  tile.  Do  not  mistake  the  "dead-eye"  that 
nature  put  on  my  foreleg  for  a  wart  to  be  exter- 
minated. Do  not  cut  off  my  tail  short  in  fly-time. 
Keep  the  north  wind  out  of  our  stables.  Care 
for  us  at  some  other  time  than  during  the 
epizootics,  so  that  we  may  see  your  kindness  is 
not  selfish. 

My  dear  friends,  our  interests  are  mutual.  I 
am  a  silent  partner  in  your  business.  Under  my 
sound  hoof  is  the  diamond  of  national  prosperity. 
Beyond  my  nostril  the  world's  progress  may  not 
go.  With  thrift,  and  wealth,  and  comfort,  I 
daily  race  neck  and  neck.     Be  kind  to  me  if  you 


A  Horse' s  Letter.  93 

want  me  to  be  useful  to  you.  And  near  be  the 
day  when  the  red  horse  of  war  shall  be  hocked 
and  impotent,  and  the  pale  horse  of  death  shall 
be  hurled  back  on  his  haunches,  but  the  white 
horse  of  peace,  and  joy,  and  triumph  shall  pass 
on,  its  rider  with  face  like  the  sun,  all  nations 
following ! 

Your  most  obedient  servant, 

Charley  Bucephalus. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
KINGS  OF  THE  KENNEL. 

I  said,  when  I  lost  Carlo,  that  I  would  never 
own  another  dog.  We  all  sat  around,  like  big 
children,  crying  about  it;  and  what  made  the 
grief  worse,  we  had  no  sympathizers.  Our  neigh- 
bors were  glad  of  it,  for  he  had  not  always  done 
the  fair  thing  with  them.  One  of  them  fiad  lost 
a  chicken  when  it  M'as  stuffed  and  all  ready  for 
the  pan,  and  suspicions  were  upon  Carlo. 

I  was  the  only  counsel  for  the  defendant;  and 
while  I  had  to  acknowledge  that  the  circumstan- 
tial evidence  was  against  him,  I  proved  his 
general  character  for  integrity,  and  sliowed  that 
the  common  and  criminal  law  were  on  our  side. 
Coke  and  Blackstone  in  our  favor,  and  a  long  list 
of  authorities  and  decisions :  II.  Revised  Statutes, 
New  York,  132,  §  27 ;  also,  Watch  vs.  Towser, 
Crompton  and  Meeson,  p.  375 ;  also.  State  of  New 
Jersey  vs.  Sicem  Blanchard. 

When  I  made  these  citations,  my  neighbor  and 
his  wife,  who  were  judges  and  jurors  in  the  case, 
looked  confounded ;  and  so  I  followed  up  the 
advantage  I  had  gained  with  the  law  maxim, 
"Non  minus  ex  dolo  quam  ex  culpa  quisque  hac 
lege  tenetur, "  which  I  found  afterward  was  the 
wrong  Latin,  but  it  had  its  desired  effect,  so  that 
the  jury  did  not  agree,  and  Carlo  escaped  witli 
his  life;  and  on  the  way  home  he  went  spinning 
round  like  a  top,  and  punctuating  his  glee  with 
a  semicolon  made  by  both  paws  on  my  new 
clothes. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  all  his  predicaments  and 
frailties,    at    his    decease    we    resolved,    in    our 

94 


Kings  of  the  Kennel.  95 

trouble,  that  we  would  never  own  another  clog. 
But  this,  like  many  another  resolution  of  our 
life,  has  been  broken ;  and  here  is  Kick,  the 
Newfoundland,  lying  sprawled  on  the  mat.  He 
has  a  jaw  set  with  strength ;  an  eye  mild,  but 
indicative  of  the  fact  that  he  does  not  want  too 
many  familiarities  from  strangers ;  a  nostril  large 
enough  to  snuff  a  wild  duck  across  the  meadows ; 
knows  how  to  shake  hands,  and  can  talk  with 
head,  and  ear,  and  tail ;  and,  save  an  unreason- 
able antipathy  to  cats,  is  perfect,  and  always  goes 
with  me  on  my  walk  out  of  town. 

He  knows  more  than  a  great  many  people. 
Never  do  we  take  a  walk  but  the  poodles,  and 
the  rat-terriers,  and  the  grizzly  curs  with  stringy 
hair  and  damp  nose,  get  after  him.  They  tumble 
off  the  front  door  step  and  out  of  the  kennels, 
and  assault  him  front  and  rear.  I  have  several 
times  said  to  him  (not  loud  enough  for  Presby- 
tery to  hear),  ''Nick,  why  do  you  stand  all  this? 
Go  at  them!"  He  never  takes  my  advice.  He 
lets  them  bark  and  snap,  and  passes  on  unpro- 
vokedly  without  sniff  or  growl.  He  seems  to  say, 
"They  are  not  worth  minding.  Let  them  bark. 
It  pleases  them  and  don't  hurt  me.  I  started  out 
for  a  six-mile  tramp,  and  I  cannot  be  diverted. 
Newfoundlanders  like  me  have  a  mission.  My 
father  pulled  three  drowning  men  to  the  beach, 
and  my  uncle  on  my  mother's  side  saved  a  child 
from  the  snow.  If  you  have  anything  brave,  or 
good,  or  great  for  me  to  do,  just  clap  your  hand 
and  point  out  the  work,  and  I  will  do  it,  but  I 
cannot  waste  my  time  on  rat-terriers." 

If  Nick  had  put  that  in  doggerel,  I  think  it 
would  have  read  well.  It  was  wise  enough  to 
become  the  dogma  of  a  school.  ]Men  and  women 
are  more  easily  diverted  from  the  straight  course 
than  is  Nick.  No  useful  people  escape  being 
barked  at.     ^lythology  represents  Cerberus  a  mon- 


96  Around  the  Tea-table. 

ster  dog  at  the  mouth  of  hell,  but  he  has  had  a 
long  line  of  puppies.  They  start  out  at  editors, 
teachers,  philanthropists  ancl  Christians.  If  these 
men  gc  right  on  their  way,  they  perform  their 
mission  and  get  their  reward,  l3ut  one-half  of 
them  stop  and  make  attempt  to  silence  the  literary, 
political  and  ecclesiastical  curs  that  snap  at  them. 
Many  an  author  has  got  a  drop  of  printers'  ink 
spattered  in  his  eye,  and  collapsed.  The  critic 
who  had  lobsters  for  supper  the  night  before,  and 
whose  wife  in  the  morning  had  parted  his  hair 
on  the  wrong  side,  snarled  at  the  new  book,  and 
the  time  that  the  author  might  have  spent  in 
new  work  he  squanders  in  gunning  for  critics. 
You  might  better  have  gone  straight  ahead,  Nick  I 
You  will  come  to  be  estimated  for  exactly  what 
you  are  worth.  If  a  fool,  no  amount  of  newspaper 
or  magazine  puffery  can  set  you  up ;  and  if  you 
are  useful,  no  amount  of  newspaper  or  magazine 
detraction  can  keep  you  down.  For  every  position 
there  are  twenty  aspirants ;  only  one  man  can  get 
it ;  forthwith  the  other  nineteen  are  on  the  offen- 
sive. People  are  silly  enough  to  think  that  they 
can  build  themselves  up  with  the  bricks  they 
pull  out  of  your  wall.  Pass  on  and  leave  them. 
What  a  waste  of  powder  for  a  hunter  to  go  into 
the  wcods  to  shoot  black  flies,   or  for  a  man   of 

§reat  work  to  notice   infinitesimal  assault !     My 
Tewfoundland  would  scorn  to  be  seen  making  a 
drive  at  a  black-and-tan  terrier. 

But  one  day,  on  my  walk  with  Nick,  we  had 
an  awful  time.  We  were  coming  in  at  great 
speed,  much  of  the  time  on  a  brisk  run,  my  mind 
full  of  white  clover  tops  and  the  balm  that 
exudes  from  the  woods  in  full  leafage,  when, 
passing  the  commons,  we  saw  a  dog  fight  in  which 
there  mingled  a  Newfoundland  as  large  as  Nick, 
a  blood-hound  and  a  pointer.  They  had  been 
interlocked  for    some   time    in    terrific    combat. 


Kings  of  the  Keniiel.  97 

They  had  gnashed  upon  and  torn  each  other  until 
there  was  getting  to  be  a  great  scarcity  of  ears,  and 
eyes  and  tails. 

Nick's  head  was  up,  but  I  advised  him  that  he 
had  better  keep  out  of  that  canine  misunder- 
standing. But  he  gave  one  look,  as  much  as  to 
say,  ''Here  at  last  is  an  occasion  worthy  of  me, " 
and  at  that  dashed  into  the  fray.  There  had  been 
no  order  in  the  fight  before,  but  as  Nick  entered 
they  all  pitched  at  him.  They  took  him  fore, 
and  aft,  and  midships.  It  was  a  greater  under- 
taking than  he  had  anticipated.  He  shook,  and 
bit,  and  hauled,  and  howled.  He  wanted  to  get 
out  of  the  fight,  but  found  that  more  difficult 
than  to  get  in. 

Now,  if  there  is  anything  I  like,  it  is  fair 
play.  I  said,  "Count  me  in!"  and  with  stick 
and  other  missiles  I  came  in  like  Blucher  at 
nightfall.  Nick  saw  me  and  plucked  up  courage, 
and  we  gave  it  to  them  right  and  left,  till  our 
opponents  went  scampering  down  the  hill,  and 
I  laid  dow^n  the  weapons  of  conflict  and  resumed 
my  profession  as  a  minister,  and  gave  the  morti- 
fied dog  some  good  advice  on  keeping^  out  of 
scrapes,  which  homily  had  its  proper  efl^ect,  for 
with  head  down  and  penitent  look,  he  jogged 
back  w^ith  me  to  the  city. 

Lesson  for  dogs  and  men :  Keep  out  of  fights. 
If  you  see  a  church  contest,  or  a  company  of 
unsanctified  females  overhauling  each  other's 
good  name  until  there  is  nothing  left  of  them 
but  a  broken  hoop  skirt  and  one  curl  of  back 
hair,  you  had  better  stand  clear.  Once  go  in, 
and  your  own  character  will  be  an  invitation  to 
their  muzzles.  Nick's  long,  clean  ear  was  a  temp- 
tation to  all  the  teeth.  You  will  have  enough 
battles  of  your  own,  without  getting  a  loan  of 
conflicts  at  twenty  per  cent  a  month. 

Every   time   since  the  unfortunate    struggle   I 


98  Aroimd  the  Tea-table. 

have  described,  when  Nick  and  I  take  a  country 
walk  and  pass  a  dog  fight,  he  comes  close  up  by 
my  side,  and  looks  me  in  the  eye  with  one  long 
wipe  of  the  tongue  over  his  chops,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "Easier  to  get  into  a  fight  than  to  get  out 
of  it*  Better  jog  along  our  own  way;"  and  then 
I  preach  him  a  short  sermon  from  Proverbs  xxvi. 
17:  "He  that  passeth  by,  and  meddleth  with 
strife  belonging  not  to  him,  is  like  one  that 
taketh  a  dog  by  the  ears. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
THE  MASSACEE  OF  CHLRCH  MUSIC. 

There  has  been  an  effort  made  for  the  last, 
twenty  years  to  kill  congregational  singing.  The 
attempt  has  been  tolerably  successful ;  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  some  rules  might  be  given  by  which 
the  work  could  be  done  more  quickly,  and  com- 
pletely. What  is  the  use  of  having  it  lingering 
on  in  this  uncertain  way?  Why  not  put  it  out 
of  its  misery?  If  you  are  going  to  kill  a  snake, 
kill  it  thoroughly,  and  do  not  let  it  keep  on  wag- 
ging its  tail  till  sundown.  Congregational  singing 
is  a  nuisance,  anyhow,  to  many  of  the  people. 
It  interferes  with  their  comfort.  '  It  offends  their 
taste.  It  disposes  their  nose  to  flexibility  in  the 
upward  direction.  It  is  too  deuiocratic  in  its 
tendency.  Down  with  congregational  singing, 
and  let  us  have  no  more  of  it. 

The  first  rule  for  killing  it  is  to  have  only  such 
tunes  as  the  people  cannot  sing! 

In  some  churches  it  is  the  custom  for  choirs  at 
each  service  to  sing  one  tune  which  the  people 
know.  It  is  very  generous  of  the  choir  to  do 
that.  The  people  ought  to  be  very  thankful  for 
the  donation.  They  do  not  deserve  it.  They 
are  all  "miserable  oifenders"  (I  heard  them  say 
so),  and,  if  permitted  once  in  a  service  to  sing, 
ought  to  think  themselves  highly  favored.  But 
I  oppose  this  singing  of  even  the  one  tune  that 
the  people  understand.  It  spoils  them.  It  gets 
them  hankering  after  more.  Total  abstinence  is 
the  only  safety ;  for  if  you  allow^  them  to  imbibe 
at  all,  they  will  after  a  while  get  in  the  habit  of 
drinking  too  much  of  it,  and  the  first  thing  you 

99 


loo  Aroiaid  the  Tea-table. 

know  they  will  be  going  around  drunk  on  sacred 
psalmody. 

Beside  that,  if  you  let  them  sing  one  tune  at  a 
service,  they  will'  be  putting  thetr  oar  into  the 
other  tunes  and  bothering  the  choir.  There  is 
nothing  more  annoying  to  the  choir  than,  at  some 
moment  when  they  have  drawn  out  a  note  to 
exquisite  tineness,  thin  as  a  split  hair,  to  have 
some  blundering  elder  to  come  in  with  a  "Praise 
ye  the  Lord  I ' '  Total  abstinence,  I  say  1  Let  all 
the  chm-ches  take  the  pledge  even  against  the 
milder  musical  beverages;  for  they  who  tamper 
with  champagne  cider  soon  get  to  Hock  and  old 
Burgundy. 

Now,  if  all  the  tunes  are  new,  there  will  be  no 
temptation  to  the  people.  They  will  not  keep 
humming  along,  hoping  they  will  find  some  bars 
<lown  where  they  can  brfak  into  the  clover  pas- 
ture. They  will  take  the  tune  as  an  inextricable 
conundrum,  and  give  it  up.  Besides  that,  Pisgah, 
Ortonville  and  Brattle  Street  are  old  fashioned. 
They  did  very  well  in  their  day.  C)ur  fathers 
were  simple-minded  people,  and  "the  tunes  fitted 
them.  But  our  fathers  are  gone,  and  they  ought 
to  have  taken  their  baggage  with  them.  It  is  a 
nuisance  to  have  those "o^ld  tunes  floating  around 
the  church,  and  sometime,  just  as  we  have  got 
the  music  as  fine  as  an  opera,  to  have  a  revival 
of  religion  come,  and  some  new-l^orn  soul  break 
out  in""Eock  of  Ages,  Cleft  for  Me!"  till  the 
organist  stamps  the  pedal  with  indignation,  and 
the  leader  of  the  tune  gets  red  in  the  face  and 
swears.  Certainly  anything  that  makes  a  man 
swear  is  wrong — ergo,  congregational  singing  is 
wrong.  ' '  Quod  erat  demonstrandum  ;"  which,  be- 
ing translated,  means  "Plain  as  the  nose  on  a 
man's  face. " 

What  right  have  people  to  sing  who  know  noth- 
ing about   rhvthmics.  melodies,   dvnamics?     The 


The  Massacre  of  Church  Music.       loi 

old  tunes  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  themselves  when 
compared  with  our  modern  beauties.  Let  Dun- 
dee, and  Portuguese  Hymn,  and  Silver  Street  hide 
their  heads  beside  w'hat  we  heard  not  long  ago 
in  a  church — just  where  I  shall  not  tell.  The 
ministt?r  read  the  hymn  beautifully.  The  organ 
began,  and  the  choir  sang,  as  near  as  I  could 
understand,  as  follows: 

Go — aw — gee — bah 

Ah — me — la — he 
O — pah — sah — dah 

Wo — haw — gee-e-e-e. 

My  wife,  seated  beside  me,  did  not  like  the 
music.  But  I  said:  "What  beautiful  sentiment! 
My  dear,  it  is  a  pastoral.  You  might  have  known 
that  from  '  Wo-haw-gee ! '  You  have  had  your 
taste  ruined  by  attending  the  Brooklyn  Taber- 
nacle."  The  choir  repeated  the  last  line  of  the 
hymn  four  times.  Then  the  prima  donna  leaped 
on  to  the  first  line,  and  slipped,  and  fell  on  to- 
the  second,  and  that  broke  and  let  her  through 
into  the  third.  The  other  voices  came  in  to  pick 
her  up,  and  got  into  a  grand  wrangle,  and  the 
bass  and  the  soprano  had  it  for  about  ten  seconds ; 
but  the  soprano  beat  (women  always  do),  and  the 
bass  rolled  down  into  the  cellar,  and  the  soprana 
went  up  into  the  garret,  but  the  latter  kept  on 
squalling  as  though  the  bass,  in  leaving  her,  had 
wickedly  torn  out  all  her  back  hair.  I  felt 
anxious  about  the  soprano,  and  looked  back  to- 
see  if  she  had  fainted  ;  but  found  her  reclining  in 
the  arms  of  a  young  man  who  looked  strong 
enough  to  take  care  of  her. 

Now,  I  admit  that  we  cannot  all  have  such 
things  in  our  churches.  It  costs  like  sixty.  In 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Bankak  it  costs  one  hun- 
dred dollars  to  have  sung  that  communion 
piece : 


I02  Aroinid  the  Tea-table. 

"Ye  wretched,   hungry,   starving  poor!" 

But  let  us  come  as  near  to  it  as  we  can.  The 
tune  "Pisgah"  has  been  standing  long  enough  on 
"Jordan's  stormy  banks."  Let  it  pass  over  and 
get  out  of  the  wet  weather.  Good-bye, ' '  Autioch, ' ' 
"Harwell"  and  " Boylston. "  Good-bye  till  we 
meet  in  glory. 

But  if  the  prescription  of  new  tunes  does  not 
end  congregational  singing,  I  have  another  sug- 
gestion. Get  an  irreligious  choir,  and  put  them 
in  a  high  balcony  back  of  the  congregation.  I 
know  clioirs  who  are  made  up  chiefly  of  religious 
people,  or  those,  at  least,  respectful  for  sacred 
things.  That  will  never  do,  if  you  want  to  kill 
the  music.  The  theatrical  troupe  are  not  busy 
elsewhere  on  Sabl^ath,  and  you  can  get  them  at 
half  price  to  sing  the  praises  of  the  Lord.  Meet 
them  in  the  green  room  at  the  close  of  the  ' '  Black 
Crook"  and  secure  them.  They  will  come  to 
church  with  opera-glasses,  which  will  bring  the 
minister  so  near  to  them  they  can,  from  their 
high  perch,  look  clear  down  his  throat  and  see 
his  sermon  before  it  is  delivered.  They  will 
make  excellent  poetry  on  Deacon  Goodsoul  as  he 
carries  around  the  missionary  box.  They  will 
write  dear  little  notes  to  Gonzaldo,  asking  him 
how  his  cold  is  and  how  he  likes  gum-drops. 
Without  interfering  with  the  worship  below,  they 
can  discuss  the  comparative  fashionableness  of 
the  "basque"  and  the  "polonaise,"  the  on^.  lady 
vowing  she  thinks  the  first  style  is  "horrid," 
and  the  other  saying  she  would  rather  die  than 
be  seen  in  the  latter;  ail  this  while  the  chorister 
is  gone  out  during  sermon  to  refresh  himself  with 
a  mint-julep,  hastening  back  in  time  to  sing  the 
last  hymn.  How  much  like  heaven  it  wdll  be 
when,  at  the  close  of  a  solemn  service,  we  are 
favored  with  snatches  from  Verdi's  "Trovatore,  " 


The  Massacre  of  Church  Music.      103 

Meyerbeer's  "Huguenots"   and   Bellini's  "Son- 
nambula, ' '  from  such  artists  as 

Mademoiselle  Squintelle, 

Prima  Donna  Soprano,  from  Grand  Opera  House, 

Paris. 

Signor  Bombastani, 

Basso  Buffo,  from  Royal  Italian  Opera. 

Carl  Schneiderine. , 

First  Baritone,  of  His  Majesty's  Theatre,  Berlin. 

If  after  three  months  of  taking  these  two  pre- 
scriptions the  congregational  singing  is  not  thor- 
oughly dead,  send  me  a  letter  directed  to  my 
name,  with  the  title  of  0.  F.  M.  (Old  Fog>^  in 
Music),  and  I  will,  on  the  receipt  thereof,  write 
another  prescription,  which  I  am  sure  will  kill 
it  dead  as  a  door  nail,  and  that  is  the  deadest 
thing  in  all  history. 


^'  CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  PEW  AND  PULPIT. 

Two  more  sermons  unloaded,  and  Monday 
morning  I  went  sauntering  down  town,  ready  for 
almost  anything.  I  met  "several  of  my  clerical 
friends  going  to  a  ministers'  meeting.  I  do  not 
often  go  there,  for  I  have  found  that  some  of  the 
clerical  meetings  are  gridirons  where  they  roast 
clergymen  who  do  not  do  things  just  as  we  do 
them.  I  like  a  Presbyterian  gridiron  no  better 
than  a  Methodist  one,  and  prefer  to  either  of 
them  an  old-fashioned  spit,  such  as  1  saw  this 
summer  in  Oxford,  England,  where  the  rabbit 
is  kept  turning  round  before  a  slow  fire,  in  blessed 
state  of  itinerancy,  the  rabbit  thinking  he  is 
merely  taking  a  ride,  while  he  is  actually  roast- 
ing. 

As  on  the  Monday  morning  I  spoke  of  I  was 
passing  down  the  street,  I  heard  high  words  in  a 
church.  What  could  it  be?  Was  it  the  minister, 
and  the  sexton,  and  the  trustees  fighting?  I  went 
in  to  see,  when,  lo  I  I  found  that  the  Pew  and 
the  Pulpit  were  bantering  each  other  at  a  great 
rate,  and  seemed  detennined  to  tell  each  one  the 
other's  faults.  I  stood  still  as  a  mouse  that  1 
might  hear  all  that  was  said,  and  my  presence 
not  be  noticed. 

The  Pew  was  speaking  as  I  went  in,  and  said 
to  the  Pulpit,  in  anything  but  a  reverential  tone: 
"Why  don't  you  speak  out  on  other  days  as  well 
as  you  do  to-day?  The  fact  is,  I  never  knew  a 
Pulpit  that  could  not  be  heard  when  it  was 
thoroughly  mad.  But  when  you  give  out  the 
hymn  on  SabVjaths,   I    cannot  tell  whether  it  is 

104 


The  Battle  of  Pew  and  Pulpit.        105 

the  seventieth  or  the  hundredth.  When  you  read 
the  chapter,  you  are  half  through  with  it  before 
I  know  whether  it  is  Exodus  or  Deuteronomy. 
Why  do  you  begin  your  sermon  in  so  low  a  kej^? 
If  the  introduction  is  not  worth  hearing,  it  is 
not  worth  delivering.  Are  you  explaining  the 
text?  If  so,  the  Lord's  meaning  is  as  important 
as  anything  you  will  have  in  your  sermon.  Throw 
back  your  shoulders,  open  your  mouth!  Make- 
your  voice  strike  against  the  opposite  wall !  Pray 
not  only  for  a  clean  heart,  but  for  stout  lungs. 
I  have  nearly  worn  out  my  ears  trying  to  catch 
your  utterances.  When  a  captain  on  a  battlefield 
gives  an  order,  the  company  all  hear ;  and  if  you 
want  to  be  an  officer  in  the  Lrord's  army,  do  not 
mumble  your  words.  The  elocution  of  Christ's 
sermon  is  described  when  we  are  told  he  opened 
his  mouth  and  taught  them — that  is,  spoke  dis- 
tinctly, as  those  cannot  who  keep  their  lips  half 
closed.  Do  you  think  it  a  sign  of  modesty  to- 
speak  so  low?  I  think  the  most  presuming  thing 
on  earth  for  a  Pulpit  to  do  is  to  demand  that  an. 
audience  sit  quiet  when  they  cannot  hear,  simply 
looking.  The  handsomest  minister  I  ever  saw  is 
not  worth  looking  at  for  an  hour  and  a  half  at  a 
stretch.  The  truth  is  that  I  have  often  been  so 
provoked  with  your  inarticulate  speech  that  I 
would  have  got  up  and  left  the  church,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  fact  that  I  am  nailed  fast,  and  my 
appearance  on  the  outside  on  a  Sabbath-day, 
walking  up  and  down,  would  have  brought 
around  me  a  crowd  of  unsanctified  boys  to  gaze- 
at  me,  a  poor  church  pew  on  its  travels. ' ' 

The  Pulpit  responded  in  anything  but  a  pious 
tone:  "The  reason  you  do  not  hear  is  that  your 
mind  on  Sundays  is  full  of  everything  but  the 
gospel.  You  work  so  hard  during  the  week  that 
you  rob  the  Lord  of  his  twenty-four  hours.  The 
man  who  works  on  Sunday  as  well  as  the  rest  of 


io6  Around  the  Tea-table. 

the  week  is  no  worse  than  you  who  abstain  on 
that  day,  because  your  excessive  devotion  to 
business  during  the  week  kills  your  Sunday ;  and 
a  dead  Sunday  is  no  Sunday  at  all.  You  throw 
yourself  into  church  as  much  as  to  say,  'Here, 
Lord,  I  am  too  tired  to  work  any  more  for  my- 
self ;  you  can  have  the  use  of  me  while  I  am 
resting!'  Besides  that,  O  Pew!  you  have  a 
miserable  habit.  Even  when  you  can  hear  my 
voice  on  the  Sabbath  and  are  wide  aw^ake,  you 
have  a  way  of  putting  your  head  down  or  shut- 
ting your  eyes,  and  looking  as  if  your  soul  had 
vacated  the  premises  for  six  weeks.  You  are  one 
of  those  hearers  who  think  it  is  pious  to  look 
dull ;  and  you  think  that  the  Pew  on  the  other 
side  the  aisle  is  an  old  sinner  because  he  hunches 
the  Pew  behind  him,  and  smiles  when  the  truth 
hits  the  mark.  If  you  want  me  to  speak  out,  it 
is  your  duty  not  only  to  be  wide  awake,  but  to 
look  so.  Give  us  the  benetit  of  your  two  eyes. 
There  is  one  of  the  elders  whose  eyes  I  have 
never  caught  while  speaking,  save  once,  and  that 
was  when  I  was  preaching  from  Psalm  cxiii.  12, 
'They  compassed  me  about  like  bees,'  and  by 
^  strange  coincidence  a  bumble-bee  got  into 
<?hurch,  and  I  had  my  attention  divided  between 
my  text  and  the  annoying  insect,  which  flew 
about  like  an  illustration  I  could  not  catch.  A 
dull  Pew  is  often  responsible  for  a  dull  Pulpit. 
Do  not  put  your  head  down  on  the  back  of  the 
seat  in  front,  pretending  you  are  very  much 
affected  with  the  sermon,  for  we  all  know  you 
are  napping. ' ' 

The  Pew^:  "If  you  want  me  to  be  alert,  give 
me  something  fresh  and  startling.  Your  sermons 
all  sound  alike.  It  don't  make  any  difference 
where  you  throw  the  net,  you  never  fish  up  any- 
thing but  moss-bunkers.  You  are  always  talk- 
ing about  stale  things.     Why  don't  you  "^give  us 


The  Battle  of  Pew  and  Pulpit,       107 

a  touch  of  learned  discussion,  such  as  the  people 
hear  every  Sunday  in  the  church  of  Reverend 
Doctor  Heavyasbricks,  when,  with  one  eye  on 
heaven  and  the  other  on  the  old  man  in  the 
gallery,  he  speaks  of  the  Tridentine  theory  of 
original  sin,  and  Patristic  Soteriology,  Mediaeval 
Trinitarianism,  and  Antiochian  Anthropology? 
Why  do  you  not  give  us  some  uncommon  words, 
and  instead  of  'looking  back  upon  your  subject,' 
sometimes  'recapitulate,'  and  instead  of  talking 
about  a  man's  'peculiarities,'  mention  his  'idiot- 
sin-crasies, '  and  describe  the  hair  as  the  capillary 
adornment;  and  instead  of  speaking  of  a  thing  as 
tied  together,  say  it  was  '  inosculated. '  ' ' 

The  Pulpit :  *  *  You  keep  me  so  poor  I  cannot 
buy  the  books  necessary  to  keep  me  fresh.  After 
the  babies  are  clothed,  and  the  table  is  provided 
for,  and  the  wardrobe  supplied,  my  purse  is 
empty,  and  you  know  the  best  carpenter  cannot 
make  good  shingles  without  tools.  Better  pay 
up  your  back  salary  instead  of  sitting  there  howl- 
ing at  me.  You  eased  your  conscience  by  sub- 
scribing for  the  support  of  the  gospel,  but  the 
liOrd  makes  no  record  of  what  a  man  subscribes ; 
he  waits  to  see  whether  he  pays.  The  poor  widow 
with  the  two  mites  is  applauded  in  Scripture 
because  she  paid  cash  down.  I  have  always  noticed 
that  you  Pews  make  a  big  noise  about  Pulpit  de- 
ficiencies, just  in  proportion  to  the  little  you  do. 
The  fifty  cents  you  pay  is  only  premium  on  your 
policy  of  five  dollars'  worth  of  grumbling.  O  crit- 
ical Pew !  you  had  better  scour  the  brass  number 
on  your  own  door  before  you  begin  to  polish  the 
silver  knob  on  mine.  " 

The  Pew:  "I  think  it  is  time  for  you  to  go 
away.  I  am  glad  that  conference  is  coming.  I 
shall  see  the  bishop,  and  have  you  removed  to 
some  other  part  of  the  Lord's  vineyard.  You 
are  too  plain  a  Pulpit  for  such  an  elegant  Pew. 


io8  Arou7id  the  Tea-table. 

Just  look  at  your  big  hands  and  feet.  We  want 
a  spiritual  guide  whose  fingers  taper  to  a  fine 
point,  and  one  who  could  wear,  if  need  be,  a 
lady's  shoe.  Get  out,  with  your  great  paws  and 
clodhoppers  1  We  want  in  this  church  a  Pulpit 
that  will  talk  about  heaven,  and  make  no  allusion 
to  the  other  place.  I  have  a  highly  educated 
nose,  and  can  stand  the  smell  of  garlic  and 
assafcEtida  better  than  brimstone.  We  want  an 
oleaginous  minister,  commonly  called  oily.  We 
want  him  distinguished  for  his  unctuosity. 
We  want  an  ecclesiastical  scent-bag,  or,  as  you 
might  call  him,  a  heavenly  nosegay,  perfect  in 
every  respect,  his  ordinary  sneeze  as  good  as  a 
doxology.  If  he  cry  during  some  emotional  part 
of  his  discourse,  let  it  not  be  an  old-fashioned 
cry,  with  big  hands  or  coat  sleeve  sopping  up  the 
tears,  but  let  there  be  just  two  elegant  tears,  one 
from  each  eye,  rolling  down  parallel  into  a  pocket- 
handkerchief  richly  embroidered  by  the  sewing 
society,  and  inscribed  with  the  names  of  all  the 
young  ladies'  Bible  class.  If  he  kneel  before 
sermon,  let  it  not  be  a  coming  down  like  a  soul 
in  want,  but  on  one  knee,  so  artistically  done 
that  the  foot  shall  show  the  twelve-dollar  patent 
leather  shoe,  while  the  aforesaid  pocket-handker- 
chief is  just  peeping  from  the  coat  pocket,  to  see 
if  the  ladies  who  made  it  are  all  there — the  whole 
scene  a  religious  tableau.  We  want  a  Pulpit  that 
will  not  get  us  into  a  tearing-down  revival,  where 
the  people  go  shouting  and  twisting  about,  regard- 
less of  carpets  and  fine  eff"ects,  but  a  revival  that 
shall  be  born  in  a  band-box,  and  wrapped  in 
rufiles,  and  lie  on  a  church  rug,  so  still  that 
nobody  will  know  it  is  there.  If  we  could  have 
such  a  Pulpit  as  that,  all  my  fellow-Pews  would 
join  me,  and  we  would  give  it  a  handsome  sup- 
port; yes,  we  would  pay  him;  if  we  got  just 
what  we  want,  we  could  afi"ord  to  give,  in  case 


The  Battle  of  Pew  and  Pulpit.       109 

he  were  thoroughly  eloquent,  Demosthenic  and 
bewitching — I  am  quite  certain  we  could,  although 
I  should  not  want  myself  to  be  held  responsible ; 
yes,  he  should  have  eight  hundred  dollars  a  year, 
and  that  is  seven  hundred  and  sixty  dollars  more 
than  Milton  got  for  his  'Paradise  Lost,'  about 
which  one  of  his  learned  contemporaries  wrote: 
'The  old  blind  schoolmaster,  John  Milton,  hath 
published  a  tedious  poem  on  the  fall  of  man ;  if 
its  length  be  not  considered  a  merit,  it  has  no 
other. '  Nothing  spoils  ministers  like  too  big  a 
salary.  Jeshurun  waxed  fat  and  kicked ;  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  wax  and  the  fat,  he  would 
not  have  kicked.  Sirloin  steaks  and  mince  pies 
are  too  rich  for  ministers.  Put  these  men  down 
on  catfish  and  flounders,  as  were  the  fishermen 
apostles.  Too  much  oats  makes  horses  frisky, 
and  a  minister  high-fed  is  sure  to  get  his  foot 
over  the  shaft.  If  we  want  to  keep  our  pulpits 
spiritual,  w^e  must  keep  them  poor.  Blessed  are 
the  poor!" 

' '  Stop !  stop ! ' '  cried  the  Pulpit ;  and  it  seemed 
to  rise  higher  than  before,  and  to  tremble  from 
head  to  foot  with  excitement,  and  the  banisters 
to  twist  as  if  to  fly  in  indignation  at  the  Pew, 
and  the  plush  on  the  book-board  to  look  red  as 
fire ;  and  seeing  there  was  going  to  be  a  collision 
between  Pulpit  and  Pew,  I  ran  up  the  aisle  and 
got  between  them  (they  were  wide  enough  apart 
to  allow  me  to  get  in),  and  I  cried,  "Silence! 
This  is  great  talk  for  a  church.  Puljiits  ought 
not  to  scold,  and  Pews  ought  not  to  grumble.  As 
far  as  I  can  see,  you  are  both  to  blame.  Better 
shake  hands  and  pray  for  a  better  spirit.  It 
wants  more  than  a  bishop  to  settle  this  difficulty. 
The  Lord  Almighty  alone  can  make  Pulpit  and 
Pew  what  they  ought  to  be.  You  both  need  to 
be  baptized  over  again!"  Then,  taking  up  a 
silver  bowl  that    stood  on  the  communion  table, 


no  Around  the  Tea-table. 

half  full  of  the  water  yesterday  used  at  a  babe's 
christening,  I  stood  between  the  belligerents,  and 
sprinkled  Pew  and  Pulpit  with  a  Christian  bap- 
tism, in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  the  Son, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost.  And  when  1  got  through, 
I  could  not  tell  whether  Pew  or  Pulpit  said  Amen 
the  louder. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
THE  DEVIL'S  GRIST-MILL. 

The  above  name  has  been  given  to  one  of  the 
geysers  of  California,  that  group  of  boiling 
springs,  now  famous.  Indeed,  the  whole  region 
has  been  baptized  with  Satanic  nomenclature. 

The  guide  showed  us  what  he  called  the 
"Devil's  Mush-pot,"  the  "Devil's  Pulpit,"  the 
"Devil's  Machine  Shop,  "  and,  hearing  a  shrill 
whistle  in  the  distance,  we  were  informed  it 
was  the  "Devil's  Tea-kettle."  Seeing  some 
black  water  rushing  from  a  fountain,  from  which 
the  i)eople  of  the  neighborhood  and  tourists  dip 
up  genuine  ink,  we  were  told  it  was  the  "Devil's 
Ink-stand."  Indeed,  you  are  prepared  for  this 
on  the  Pacific  Railroad,  as  your  guide  book 
points  you  to  the  "Devil's  Gate,"  and  the 
"Devil's  Slide,"  and  the  "Devil's  Peak." 

We  protest  against  this  surrender  of  all  the 
geysers  to  the  arch  demon.  All  the  writers  talk 
of' the  place  as  infernal.  We  do  not  believe  this 
place  so  near  to  hell  as  to  heaven.  We  doubt  if 
Satan  ever  comes  here.  He  knows  enough  of  hot 
climates,  by  experience,  to  fly  from  the  hiss  of 
these  subterraneous  furnaces.  "^Standing  amid  the 
roaring,  thundering,  stupendous  wonder  of  two 
hundred  spouting  water  springs,  we  felt  like  cry- 
ing out,  "Great  and  marvelous  are  thy  works, 
Lord  God  almighty ! ' ' 

Let  all  the  chemists  and  geologists  of  the  world 
come  and  see  the  footstep  of  God  in  crystals  of 
alum  and  sulphur  and  salt.  Here  is  the  chemist's 
shop  of  the  continent.  Enough  black  indelible. 
ink   rushes  out  of  this  well,  with  terrific  plash,, 


112  Aroujid  the  Tea-table. 

to  supply  all  the  scribes  of  the  world.  There  are 
infinite  fortunes  for  those  who  will  delve  for  the 
borax,  nitric  and  sulphuric  acid,  soda,  magnesia 
^nd  other  valuables.  Enough  sulj^hur  here  to 
purify  the  blood  of  the  race,  or  in  gunpowder  to 
kill  it ;  enough  salt  to  savor  all  the  vegetables  of 
the  world.  Its  acid  water,  which  waits  only 
for  a  little  sugar  to  make  it  delicious  lemonade, 
may  yet  be  found  in  all  the  drug  stores  of  the 
country.  The  water  in  one  place  roars  like  a 
steamboat  discharging  its  steam.  Your  boots 
•curl  with  the  heat  as  you  stand  on  the  hot  rocks, 
looking.  Almost  anywhere  a  thrust  of  your 
cane  v/ill  evoke  a  gush  of  steam.  Our  ther- 
mometer, plunged  into  one  spring,  answered  one 
hundred  and  seventy-five  degi'ees  of  heat.  Thrust 
in  the  "Witch's  Caldron,"  it  asserted  two  hun- 
dred and  fifteen  degrees.  "The  Ink-stand"  de- 
clared itself  two  hundred  degrees.  An  artificial 
whistle  placed  at  the  mouth  of  one  of  these  gey- 
sers may  be  heard  miles  away.  You  get  a  hot 
bath  without  paying  for  it.  The  guide  warns 
you  off  the  crust^  in  certain  places,  lest  you  at 
the  same  moment  be  drowned  and  boiled.  Here 
an  egg  cooks  hard  in  three  minutes. 

The  whole  scene  is  unique  and  incomparable. 
The  Yosemite  makes  us  think  of  the  Alps;  San 
Francisco  reminds  us  of  Chicago ;  Foss,  the  stage 
driver,  hurling  his  passengers  down  the  mountain 
sX  breakneck  speed,  suggests  the  driver  of  an 
Alpine  diligence;  Hutchings'  mountain  horse, 
that  stumbled  and  fell  flat  upon  us,  suggested 
our  mule- back  experiences  in  T^te  Noir  Pass  of 
Switzerland ;  but  the  geysers  remind  us  of  noth- 
ing that  we  ever  saw,  or  ever  expect  to  see.  They 
have  a  voice,  a  bubble,  a  smoke,  a  death-rattle, 
peculiar  to  themselves.  No  photographist  can 
picture  them,  no  words  describe  them,  no  fancy 
sketch  them. 


Th  e  Dei  nV  s  Grist-  ?n  ill.  113 

You  may  visit  them  by  either  of  two  routes; 
but  do  not  take  the  advice  of  Foss,  the  celebrated 
stage  driver.  You  ought  to  go  by  one  route,  and 
return  the  other ;  yet  Foss  has  made  thousands  of 
travelers  believe  that  the  only  safe  and  interest- 
ing way  to  return  is  the  way  they  go — namely,  by 
his  route.  They  who  take  his  counsel  miss  some 
of  the  grandest  scenery'-  on  the  continent.  Any 
stage  driver  who  by  his  misrepresentations  wouli 
shut  a  tourist  out  of  the  entrancing  beauties  of 
the  "Russian  Valley"  ought  to  be  thrashed  with 
his  own  raw-hide.  We  heard  Foss  bamboozling 
a  group  of  travelers  with  the  idea  that  on  the 
other  route  the  roads  were  dangerous,  the  horses 
poor,  the  accommodations  wretched  and  the 
scenery  worthless.  We  came  up  in  time  to  com- 
bat the  statement  with  our  own  happy  experiences 
of  the  Russian  Valley,  and  to  save  his  passengers 
from  the  oft-repeated  imposition. 

And  thus  I  have  suggested  the  chief  annoyance 
of  California  travel.  The  rivalries  of  travel  are 
so  great  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  get  accurate 
information.  The  stage  drivers,  guides  and  hotel 
proprietors,  for  the  most  part,  are  financially 
interested  indifferent  routes.  Going  to  Yosemite 
Valley  by  the  ' '  Calaveras  route, ' '  from  the  office 
in  San  Francisco  where  you  buy  your  ticket  to  the 
end  of  your  journey,  everybody  assures  you  that 
J.  M.  Hutchings,  one  of  the  hotel  keepers  of 
Yosemite,  is  a  scholar,  a  poet,  a  gentleman  and  a 
Christian,  and  that  to  him  all  the  world  is  indebted 
for  the  opening  of  the  valley.  But  if  you  go  in 
by  the  "Mariposa  route, "  then  from  the  office 
where  j'-ou  get  your  ticket,  along  by  all  the  way 
stations  and  through  the  mountain  passes,  you 
are  assured  that  Mr.  Liedig,  the  hotel  keeper 
of  Yosemite,  is  the  poet  and  Christian,  and 
that  J.  M.  Hutchings  aforesaid  is  a  nobody,  a 
blower,  a  dead  beat,  the  chief  impediment  to  the 


114  Arou7id  the  Tea-table. 

interests  of  Yosemite — or,  to  use  a  generic  term,  a 


The  fact  is  that  no  one  can  afford  in  California 
to  take  the  same  route  twice,  for  each  one  has  a 
glorj^  of  its  own.  If  a  traveler  have  but  one  day 
for  the  Louvre  Gallery,  he  cannot  afford  to  spend 
it  all  in  one  corridor ;  and  as  California  is  one 
great  picture  gallery,  filled  with  the  masterpieces 
of  Him  who  paints  with  sunshine  and  dew  and 
fire,  and  sculptures  with  chisel  of  hurricane  and 
thunderbolt,  we  cannot  afford  to  pass  more  than 
once  before  any  canvas  or  marble. 

But  whatever  route  you  choose  for  the  "Hot 
Springs, ' '  and  whatever  pack  of  stage  driver 
yarns  you  accept,  know  this — ^that  in  all  this 
matchless  California,  with  climate  of  perpetual 
summer,  the  sky  cloudless  and  the  wind  blowing 
eix  months  from  the  genial  west ;  the  open  field 
a  safe  threshing  floor  for  the  grandest  wheat  har- 
vests of  the  world ;  nectarines  and  pomegranates 
and  pears  in  abundance  that  perish  for  lack  of 
enough  hands  to  pick ;  by  a  product  in  one  year 
of  six  million  five  hundred  thousand  gallons  of 
wine  proving  itself  the  vineyard  of  this  hemi- 
sphere ;  African  callas,  and  wild  verbenas,  and 
groves  of  oleander  and  nutmeg ;  the  hills  red  with 
five  thousand  cattle  in  a  herd,  and  white  with  a 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  sheep  in  a  flock  ;  the 
neighboring  islands  covered  with  wild  birds' 
eggs,  that  enrich  the  markets,  or  sounding  with 
the  constant  "yoi-hoi, "  "yoi-hoi,"  of  the  sea- 
lions  that  tumble  over  them ;  a  State  that  might 
be  called  the  "Central  Park"  of  the  world;  the 
gulches  of  gold  pouring  more  than  fifty  million 
of  dollars  a  year  into  the  national  lap;  lofty 
lakes,  like  Talioe,  set  crystalline  in  the  crown  of 
the  mountain ;  waterfalls  so  weird  that  you  do 
not  wonder  that  the  Indians  think  that  who- 
soever points  his  finger  at  them  must  die,  and  in 


The  DeviV s  Grist-milL  115 

one  place  the  water  plunging  from  a  height  more 
than  sixteen  times  greater  than  Niagara, — even 
in  such  a  country  of  marvels  as  this,  there  is 
nothing  that  makes  you  ask  more  questions,  or 
bow  in  profounder  awe,  or  come  away  with  more 
interesting  reminiscences  than  the  world  renowned 
California  geysers. 

There  is  a  bang  at  your  bed-room  door  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  rousing  you  to  go  up  and 
explore  them ;  and  after  spending  an  hour  or  two 
in  wandering  among  them,  you  come  back  to  the 
breakfast  prepared  by  the  model  landlord  of  Cali- 
fornia, jolly,  obliging,  intelligent,  reasonable. 
As  you  mount  the  stage  for  departure  you  give 
him  a  warm  shake  of  the  hand,  and  suggest  that 
it  would  be  a  grand  thing  if  some  one  with  a 
vein  of  poetry  in  his  mind  and  the  faith  of  God 
in  his  heart  would  come  round  some  day,  and 
passing  among  the  geysers  with  a  sprinkle  of 
hot  steam,  would  baptize  them  with  a  Christian 
name. 

Let  us  ascribe  to  Satan  nothing  that  is  grand, 
or  creative,  or  wise.  He  could  not  make  one  of 
these  grains  of  alum.  He  could  not  blow  up  one 
of  these  bubbles  on  the  spring.  He  does  some 
things  that  seem  smart;  but  taking  him  all  in 
all,  he  is  the  biggest  fool  in  the  universe. 

If  the  devil  wants  to  boil  his  "Tea-kettle,"  or 
stir  his  "Mush-pot,"  or  whirl  his  "Grist-mill," 
let  him  do  it  in  his  own  territory.  Meanwhile, 
let  the  water  and  the  fire  and  the  vapor,  at  the 
lift  of  David's  orchestral  baton,  praise  the  Lord! 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
THE  CONDUCTOR'S  DREAM. 

He  had  been  on  the  train  all  day,  had  met  all 
kinds  of  people,  received  all  sorts  of  treatment, 
punctured  all  kinds  of  tickets,  shouted  "All 
out!"  and  "All  aboard  I"  till  throat,  and  head, 
and  hand,  and  foot  were  weary.  It  would  be  a 
long  while  before  we  would  get  to  another  depot, 
and  so  he  sagged  down  in  the  corner  of  the  car  to 
sleep.  He  was  in  the  most  uncomfortable  position 
possible.  The  wind  blew  in  his  neck,  his  arm 
was  hung  over  the  back  of  the  seat,  he  had  one 
foot  under  him,  and  his  knee  pressing  hard 
against  a  brass  hinge.  In  that  twisted  and  con- 
Toluted  position  he  fell  asleep,  and  soon  began  to 
dream. 

It  seemed  to  him,  in  his  sleep,  that  the  car 
was  full  of  disagreeables.  Here  was  a  man  who 
persisted  in  having  a  window  up,  while  the  rain 
and  sleet  drove  in.  There  was  a  man  Avho  occu- 
pied the  whole  seat,  and  let  the  ladies  stand. 
Here  sat  a  man  smoking  three  poor  cigars  at 
once,  and  expectorating  into  the  beaver  hat  of 
the  gentleman  in  front.  Yonder  was  a  burglar 
on  his  way  to  jail,  and  opposite  a  murderer  going 
to  the  gallows.  He  thought  that  pickpockets 
took  his  watch  and  ruffians  refused  to  pay  their 
fare.  A  woman  traveling  alone  shot  at  him  a 
A'olley  of  questions:  "Say,  conductor,  how  long 
before  we  will  get  to  the  Junction?"  "Are  you 
sure  we  have  not  passed  it?"  "Do  you  always 
stop  there?"  "What  time  is  it?"  Madam,  do 
keep  quiet !  *  *  None  of  your  impudence  I "  "  How 
far  from  here  to  the  Junction?"     "Do  you  think 

ii6 


The  Conductor' s  Dream.  117 

that  other  train  will  wait?"  **Do  you  think  we 
will  get  there  in  time?"  "Say,  conductor,  how 
many  miles  yet?"  "Are  you  looking  out?"" 
"Now,  you  won't  let  me  go  past,  will  you?" 
"Here!  conductor,  here!  Help  me  out  with  my 
carpet  bag,  and  band-box,  and  shawl,  and  um- 
brella, and  this  bundle  of  sausage  and  head- 
cheese,"  What  was  worse,  the  train  got  going 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  an  hour,  and  pull- 
ing the  connecting  rope,  it  broke,  and  the  cars 
got  off  the  track,  and  leaped  on  again,  and  the 
stove  changed  places  with  the  wood  box,  and 
things  seemed  going  to  terrible  split  and  unmiti- 
gated smash.  The  cities  flew  past.  The  brakes 
were  powerless.  The  whistle  grew  into  a  fiend's, 
shriek.  Then  the  train  began  to  slow  up,  and 
sheeted  ghosts  swun^  lanterns  along  the  track, 
and  the  cars  rolled  into  a  white  depot,  which 
turned  out  to  be  a  great  marble  tomb ;  and  look- 
ing back  to  see  his  passengers,  they  were  all 
stark  dead,  frozen  in  upright  horror  to  the  car 
backs. 

Hearing  by  the  man's  snore,  and  seeing  by  his 
painful  look,  he  was  having  an  awful  dream,  we 
tapped  him  on  the  shoulder  and  said,  "Con- 
ductor !  Turn  over  that  seat,  and  take  my  shawl, 
and  stretch  yourself  out,  and  have  a  comfortable 
nap."  "Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said,  and  imme- 
diately sprawled  himself  out  in  the  easiest  way 
possible.  He  began  his  slumbers  just  as  an  ex- 
press train  glides  gracefully  out  of  Pittsburg- 
depot;  then  went  at  it  more  earnestly,  lifted  all 
the  brakes,  put  on  all  the  steam,  and  in  five 
minutes  was  under  splendid  headway.  He  began 
a  second  dream,  but  it  was  the  opposite  of  the 
first.  He  thought  that  he  had  just  stepped  on 
the  platform  of  his  car,  and  a  lady  handed  him 
a  bouquet  fresh  from  the  hot  house.  A  long  line 
of  railroad    presidents  and  superintendents  had 


1 1 8  A  round  the  Tea-table. 

€ome  to  the  depot  to  see  him  off,  and  tipped  their 
hats  as  he  glided  out  into  the  open  air.  The  car 
was  an  improvement  on  PuUman's  best.  Three 
golden  goblets  stood  at  the  end,  and  every  time 
he  turned  the  spigot  of  the  water  cask,  it  foamed 
soda-water — vanilla  if  you  turned  it  one  way, 
strawberry  if  you  turnecl  it  the  other.  The  spit- 
toon was  solid  silver,  and  had  never  been  use<l 
but  once,  when  a  child  threw  into  it  an  orange 
peeling.  The  car  was  filled  with  lords  and 
■duchesses,  who  rose  and  bowed  as  he  passed 
through  to  collect  the  fare.  They  all  insisted 
on  paying  twice  as  much  as  was  demanded, 
telling  him  to  give  half  to  the  company  and  keep 
the  rest  for  himself.  Stopped  a  few  minutes  at 
Jolly  Town,  Gleeville  and  Velvet  Junction,  mak- 
ing connection  with  the  Grand  Tnnik  and  Pan- 
Handle  route  for  Paradise.  But  when  the  train 
halted  there  was  no  jolt,  and  when  it  started 
there  was  no  jerk.  The  track  was  always  clear, 
no  freight  train  in  the  way,  no  snow  bank  to  be 
shoveled — train  always  on  time.  Banks  of  roses 
on  either  side,  bridges  with  piers  of  bronze,  and 
flagmen  clad  in  cloth-of-gold.  The  train  went 
three  hundred  miles  the  hour,  but  without  any 
risk,  for  all  the  passengers  were  insured  against 
accident  in  a  company  that  was  willing  to  pay 
four  times  the  price  of  what  any  neck  was  worth. 
The  steam  whistle  breathed  as  sweetly  as  any 
church  choir  chanting  its  opening  piece.  Nobody 
asked  the  conductor  to  see  his  time-table,  for 
the  only  dread  any  passenger  had  was  that  of 
coming  to  the  end  of  its  journey. 

As  night  came  on  the  self-adjusting  couches 
spread  themselves  on  either  side ;  patent  boot- 
jacks rolled  up  and  took  your  boots  off ;  unseen 
fingers  tucked  the  damask  covers  all  about  you, 
and  the  porter  took  your  pocket-book  to  keep  till 
morninw,  returning  it  then  with  twice  what  you 


The  Conductor' s  Dream.  119 

had  in  it  at  nightfall.  After  a  while  the  train 
slackens  to  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  miles 
an  hour,  and  the  conductor,  in  his  dream,  an- 
nounces that  they  are  coming  near  the  terminus. 
More  brakes  are  dropped  and  they  are  running 
but  ninety  miles  the  hour ;  and  some  one,  look- 
ing out  of  the  window,  says,  ' '  How  slow  we  go ! " 
' '  Yes, ' '  says  the  conductor,  ' '  we  are  holding  up. ' ' 
Now  they*^  have  almost  stopped,  going  at  only 
seventy  miles  the  hour.  The  long  line  of  dejx)! 
lamps  are  flashing  along  the  track.  On  the  plat- 
form of  the  station  are  the  lovers  who  are  wait- 
ing for  their  betrothed,  and  parents  who  have 
come  down  to  greet  their  children,  returned  with 
a  fortune,  and  wives  who  have  not  been  able  to 
eat  or  drink  since  their  spouses  went  away  three 
weeks  before.  As  the  cushioned  train  'flashes 
into  the  depot  and  stops,  wedding  bells  peal,  and 
the  gong  of  many  banquets  sounds,  and  white 
arms  are  flung  about  necks,  reckless  of  mistake, 
and  innumerable  percussions  of  affection  echo 
through  the  depot,  so  crisp  and  loud  that  they 
wake  the  conductor,  who  thought  that  the  bois- 
terous smack  was  on  his  own  cheek,  but  finds 
that  he  is  nothing  but  a  bachelor  railroad  man, 
with  a  lantern,  at  midnight  getting  out  into  a 
snow  bank. 

Application :  Get  an  easy  position  when  you 
sleep,  if  you  have  any  choice  between  angels  and 
gorgons.  At  midnight,  seizing  a  chair,  I  ran  into 
the  next  room,  resolving  to  kill,  at  the  first 
stroke,  the  ruffian  who  was  murdering  a  member 
of  my  household.  But  there  was  no  ruffian.  The 
sweet  girl  had,  during  the  day,  been  reading  of 
St.  Bartholomew's  ma.^sacre,  and  was  now  lying 
on  her  back,  dreaming  it  all  over  again.  When 
dreams  find  anyone  lying  flat  on  the  back,  they 
cry  out,  "Here 'is  a  flat  surface  on  which  to  skate 
and  play  ball, ' '  and  from  scalp  to  toe  they  sport 


I20  Around  the  Tea-table. 

themselves.  The  hardest  nag  in  all  the  world  to 
ride  is  the  nightmare.  Many  think  that  sleep  is 
lost  time.  But  the  style  of  your  work  will  be 
mightily  affected  by  the  style  of  your  slumber. 
Sound  Asleep  is  sister  of  Wide  Awake.  Adam 
was  the  only  man  who  ever  lost  a  rib  by  napping 
too  soundly ;  but  when  he  woke  up,  he  found 
that,  instead  of  the  twelve  ribs  with  which  he 
started,  he  really  had  nigh  two  dozen.  By  this 
I  prove  that  sleep  is  not  subtraction,  but  addition. 
This  very  night  may  that  angel  put  balm  on  both 
your  eyelids   five  minutes  after  you  touch    the 

pillow  r 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
PUSH  &  PULL. 

We  have  long  been  acquainted  with  a  businese 
firm  whose  praises  have  never  been  sung.  I  doubt 
whether  their  names  are  ever  mentioned  on  Ex- 
change. They  seem  to  be  doing  more  business 
and  have  more  branch  houses  than  the  Stewarts- 
or  Lippincotts.  You  see  their  names  ahnost 
everywhere  on  the  door.  It  is  the  firm  of  Push 
&  Pull.  They  generally  have  one  of  their  part- 
ners' names  on  outsicle  of  the  door,  and  the 
other  on  the  inside:  "Push"  on  the  outside  and 
"Pull"  on  the  inside.  I  have  found  their  busi- 
ness-houses in  New  York,  Brooklyn,  Philadeli^hia, 
Boston,  London  and  Edinburgh.  '  It  is  under  my 
eye,  whether  I  go  to  buy  a  hat,  a  shawl,  or  a  paper  of 
pins,  or  watch,  or  ream  of  foolscap.  They  are- 
in  all  kinds  of  business ;  and  from  the  way  they 
branch  out,  and  put  up  new  stores,  and  multiply^ 
their  signboards  on  the  outside  and  inside  of 
doors,  I  conclude  that  the  largest  business  firm  or 
earth  to-day  is  Push  &  Pull. 

When  these  gentlemen  join  the  church,  they 
make  things  go  along  vigorously.  The  roof  stops 
leaking;  a  new  carpet  blooms  on  the  church 
floor;  the  fresco  is  retouched;  the  high  pulpit  is 
lowered  till  it  comes  into  the  same  climate  with 
the  pew ;  strangers  are  courteously  seated ;  the^ 
salary  of  the  minister  is  paid  before  he  gets  hope- 
lessly in  debt  to  butcher  and  baker ;  and  all  is 
right,  financially  and  spiritually,  because  Push  & 
Pull  have  connected  themselves  with  the  enter- 
prise. 

A  new  parsonage  is  to  be  built,  but  the  move- 

121 


122  Around  the  Tea-table, 

ment  does  not  get  ^^tarted.  Eight  or  ten  men  of 
slow  circulation  of  blood  and  stagnant  liver  put 
their  hands  on  the  undertaking,  but  it  will  not 
budge.  The  proposed  improvement  is  about  to 
fail  when  Push  comes  ujj  behind  it  and  gives  it 
a  shove,  and  Pull  goes  in  front  and  lays  into  the 
traces ;  and,  lo !  the  enterprise  advances,  the  goal 
is  reached  I  And  all  the  people  who  had  talked 
^bout  the  improvement,  but  done  nothing  toward 
it,  invite  the  strangers  who  come  to  town  to  go 
up  and  see  "our"  parsonage. 

Push  yia  Pull  are  wide-awake  men.  They  never 
stand  round  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets, 
2&  though  feeling  for  money  that  they  cannot 
find.  They  have  made  up  their  minds  that  there 
is  a  work  for  them  to  do ;  and  without  wasting 
any  time  in  reverie,  they  go  to  work  and  do  it. 
They  start  a  ' '  life  insurance  company. ' '  Push  is 
the  president,  and  Pull  the  secretary.  Before 
you  know  it,  all  the  people  are  nmning  in  to 
have  their  lungs  sounded,  and  to  tell  how  many 
times  they  have  had  the  rheumatism ;  how  old 
they  are;  whether  they  ever  had  fits;  and  at 
what  age  their  father  and  mother  expired  ;  and 
putting  all  the  family  secrets  on  paper,  and  pay- 
ing Push  k  Pull  two'  hundred  dollars  to  read  i't. 
"When  this  firm  starts  a  clothing  house,  they 
make  a  great  stir  in  the  city.  They  advertise  in 
such  strong  and  emphatic  way  that  the  people  are 
haunted  with  the  matter,  and  dream  about  it, 
and  go  round  the  block  to  avoid  that  store  door, 
lest  they  be  i>trsuaded  in  and  induced  to  buy 
something  they  cannot  afford.  But  some  time 
the  man  forgets  himself,  and  finds  he  is  in  front 
of  the  new  clothing  store,  and,  at  the  first  glance 
of  goods  in  the  show  window,  is  tempted  to  enter. 
Push  comes  up  behind  him,  and  Pull  comes  up 
before  him,  and  the  man  is  convinced  of  the 
fihabbiness  of  his    x^resent  appearance — that  his 


Push  &  Pull.  125 

hat  will  not  do,  that  his  coat  and  vest  and  all  the 
rest  of  his  clothes,  clean  down  to  his  shoes,  are 
unfit ;  and  before  one  week  is  past,  a  boy  runs 
up  the  steps  of  this  customer  with  a  pasteboard 
box  marked,  "From  the  clothing  establishment 
of  Push  &Pull.   C.  O.  D." 

These  men  can  do  anything  they  set  their  hands 
to — publish  a  newspaper,  lay  out  a  street,  build 
a  house,  control  a  railroad,  manage  a  church, 
revolutionize  a  city.  In  fact,  any  two  industrious, 
honorable,  enterprising  men  can  accomplish  won- 
ders. One  does  the  outdoor  work  of  the  store, 
and  the  other  the  indoor  work.  One  leads,  the 
other  follows ;  but  both  working  in  one  direction, 
all  obstacles  are  leveled  before  them. 

I  wish  that  more  of  our  young  men  could 
graduate  from  the  store  of  Push  &  Pull.  We 
have  tens  of  thousands  of  young  men  doing  noth- 
ing. There  must  be  work  somewhere  if  they 
will  only  do  it.  They  stand  round,  with  soap 
locks  ancl  scented  pocket-handkerchiefs,  tipping 
their  hats  to  the  ladies ;  while,  instead  of  wait- 
ing for  business  to  come  to  them,  they  ought  to 
go  to  work  and  make  a  business.  Here  is  the 
ladder  of  life.  The  most  of  those  who  start  at 
the  top  of  the  ladder  spend  their  life  in  coming 
down,  while  those  who  start  at  the  bottom  may 
go  up.  Those  who  are  born  with  a  gold  spoon  in 
their  mouth  soon  lose  the  spoon.  The  two  school 
bullies  that  used  to  flourish  their  silk  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  in  my  face,  and  with  their  ivory- 
handled,  four-bladed  knives  punch  holes  through 
my  kite — one  of  them  is  in  the  penitentiary,  and 
the  other  ought  to  be. 

Young  man,  the  road  of  life  is  up  hill,  and 
our  load  heavy.  Better  take  ofi"  your  kid  gloves, 
and  patent  leathers,  and  white  vest,  and  ask 
Push,  with  his  stout  shoulder,  and  Pull,  with 
his   strong  grip,    to   help  you.     Energy,    pluck, 


124  Around  the  Tea-table. 

courage,  obstinate  determination  are  to  be  cul- 
tured. Eat  strong  meat,  drop  pastries,  stop  read- 
ing sickly  novelettes,  pray  at  both  ends  of  the 
day  and  in  the  middle,  look  a  man  in  the  eye 
when  you  talk  to  him,  and  if  you  Avant  to  be  a 
giant  keep  your  head  out  of  the  lap  of  indulgences 
that  would  put  a  pair  of  shears  through  your  locks. 

If  you  cannot  get  the  right  kind  of  business 
partner,  marry  a  good,  honest  wife.  Fine  cheeks 
and  handsome  curls  are  very  well,  but  let  them 
be  mere  incidentals.  Let  our  young  men  select 
practical  women ;  there  are  a  few  of  them  left. 
With  such  a  one  you  can  get  on  with  almost  all 
heavy  loads  of  life.  You  will  be  Pull,  and 
she  Piish ;  and  if  you  do  not  get  the  house 
built  and  the  fortune  established,  send  me  word, 
and  I  will  tear  this  article  up  in  such  small  pieces 
that  no  one  will  ever  be  able  to  find  it. 

Life  is  earnest  work,  and  cannot  be  done  with 
the  tips  of  the  fingers.  We  want  more  crowbars 
and  fewer  gold  toothpicks.  The  obstacles  belore 
you  cannot  be  looked  out  of  countenance  by  a 
quizzing  glass.  Let  sloth  and  softliness  go  to  the 
wall,  but  three  cheers  for  Push  &  Flill,  and 
all  their  branch  business  houses! 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
BOSTOXIAXS. 

We  ran  up  to  the  Boston  anniversaries  to  cast 
our  vote  with  those  good  people  who  are  in  that 
city  on  the  side  of  the  right.  We  like  to  go  to 
the  modern  Athens  two  or  three  times  a  year. 
Among  other  advantages,  Boston  always  soothes 
our  nerves.  It  has  a  quieting  effect  upon  us. 
The  people  there  are  better  satisfied  than  any 
people  we  know  of.  Judging  from  a  few  restless 
spirits  who  get  on  some  of  the  erratic  platforms 
of  that  city,  and  who  fret  and  fume  about  things 
in  general,'  the  world  has  concluded  that  Boston 
is  at  unrest.  But  you  may  notice  that  the  most 
of  the  restless  people  who  go  there  are  imported 
speakers,  whom  Boston  hires  to  come  once  a 
year  and   do  for   her   all  the  necessary  fretting. 

The  genuine  Bostonian  is  satisfied.  He  rises 
moderately  early,  goes  to  business  without  any 
especial  haste,  dresses  comfortably,  talks  deliber- 
ately, lunches  freely,  and  goes  home  to  his 
family  at  plausible  hours.  He  would  like  to 
have  the  world  made  better,  but  is  not  going  to 
make  himself  sick  in  trying  to  cure  the  moral 
ailments  of  others. 

The  genuine  Bostonian  is,  for  the  most  part, 
pleased  with  himself,  has  confidence  that  the  big 
elm  will  last  another  hundred  years,  keeps  his 
patriotism  fresh  by  an  occasional  walk  near  the 
meat  market  under  Faneuil  Hall,  and  reads  the 
"Atlantic  Monthly."  We  believe  there  is  less 
fidgeting  in  Boston  than  in  any  city  of  the 
country.  We  think  that  the  average  of  human 
life  must    be   longer  there   than  in  most  cities. 


126  Aroiciid  the  Tea-table. 

Dyspepsia  is  a  rarity ;  for  when  a  mutton  chop 
is  swallowed  of  a  Bostonian  it  gives  up,  knowing 
that  there  is  no  need  of  fighting  against  such 
inexorable  digestion. 

The  ladies  of  Boston  have  more  color  in  their 
cheeks  than  those  of  many  cities,  and  walk  as 
though  they  would  live  to  get  round  the  next 
corner.  It  is  not  so  fashionable  to  be  delicate. 
They  are  robust  in  mind  and  always  ready  for  an 
argument.  State  what  you  consider  an  indisput- 
able proposition,  and  they  will  say:  *'Yes,  but 
then — "  They  are  not  afraid  to  attack  the 
theology  of  a  minister,  or  the  jurisprudence  of  a 
lawyer,  or  the  pharmacy  of  a  doctor.  If  you  do 
not  look  out,  the  Boston  woman  will  throw  ofif 
her  shawl  and  upset  your  logic  in  a  public  meet- 
ing. 

We  like  the  men  and  women  of  Boston.  They 
have  opinions  about  everything — some  of  them 
adverse  to  your  own,  but  even  in  that  case  so  well 
expressed  'that,  in  admiration  for  the  rhetoric, 
you  excuse  the  divergence  of  sentiment.  We 
never  found  a  half-and-half  character  in  Boston. 
The  people  do  not  wait  till  they  see  which  way 
the  smoke  of  their  neighbors'  chimneys  blows 
before  they  make  up  their  own  minds. 

The  most  conspicuous  book  on  the  parlor  table 
of  the  hotels  of  other  cities  is  a  book  of  engrav- 
ings or  a  copy  of  the  Bible.  In  some  of  the  Bos- 
ton hotels,  the  prominent  book  on  the  parlor 
table  is  ' '  Webster's  Unabridged  Dictionary. ' '  You 
may  be  left  in  doubt  about  the  Bostonian 's 
character,  but  need  not  doubt  his  capacity  to 
parse  a  sentence,  or  spell  without  any  resem- 
blance of  blunder  the  word  "idiosyncrasy." 

Boston,  having  made  up  its  mind,  sticks  to  it. 
Many  years  ago  it  decided  that  the  religious 
societies  ought  to  hold  a  public  anniversary  in 
June,  and  it  never  wavers.     New  York  is  tired 


Bostonians.  127 

of  these  annual  demonstrations,  and  goes  else- 
where ;  but  in  the  early  part  of  every  June, 
Boston  puts  its  umbrella  under  its  arm  and  starts 
for  Tremont  Temple,  or  Music  Hall,  determined 
to  find  an  anniversary,  and  finds  it.  You  see  on 
the  stage  the  same  spectacles  that  shone  on  the 
speakers  ten  years  ago,  and  the  same  bald  heads, 
for  the  solid  men  of  Boston  got  in  the  way  of 
wearing  their  hair  thin  in  front  a  quarter  of  a 
century  ago,  and  all  the  solid  men  of  Boston 
will,  for  the  next  century,  wear  their  hair  thin 
in  front. 

There  are  fewer  dandies  in  Boston  than  in 
most  cities.  Clothes,  as  a  general  thing,  do  not 
make  fun  of  the  people  they  sit  on.  The  humps 
on  the  ladies'  backs  are  not  within  two  feet  of 
being  as  high  as  in  some  of  the  other  cities,  and 
a  dromedary  could  look  at  them  without  thinking- 
itself  caricatured.  You  see  more  of  the  out- 
landishness  of  fashion  in  one  day  on  Broadway 
than  in  a  week  on  any  one  street  of  Boston. 
Doubtless,  Boston  is  just  as  proud  as  Xew  York, 
but  her  pride  is  that  of  brains,  and  those,  from 
the  necessities  of  the  case,  are  hidden. 

Go  out  on  the  fashionable  drive  of  Boston,  and 
you  find  that  the  horses  are  round  limbed,  and 
look  as  well  satisfied  as  their  owners.  A  restless 
man  always  has  a  thin  horse.  He  does  not  give 
the  creature  time  to  eat,  wears  out  on  him  so 
many  whip  lashes,  and  keeps  jerking  perpetually 
at  the  reins.  Boston  horses  are,  for  the  most 
part,  fat,  feel  their  oats,  and  know  that  the  eyes 
of  the  world  are  upon  them.  You  see,  we  think 
it  no  dishonor  to  a  minister  to  admire  good 
horses,  provided  he  does  not  trade  too  often,  and 
impose  a  case  of  glanders  and  bots  on  his  unso- 
phisticated neighbor.  We  think  that,  as  a 
minister  is  set  up  for  an  example  to  his  flock,  he 
ought  to  have  the  best  horse  in  the  congregation. 


128  Around  the  Tea-table. 

A  minister  is  no  more  sacred  when  riding  behind 
.a  spavined  and  ringboned  nag  than  when  whirl- 
ing along  after  a  horse  that  can  swallow  a  mile 
in  2. 30. 

The  anniversary  week  in  Boston  closed  by  a 
■display  of  flowers  and  fruits  in  Horticultural 
Hall.  '  It  was  appropriate  that  philanthropists 
and  Christians,  hot  from  discussions  of  moral 
and  religious  topics,  should  go  in  and  take  a  bath 
of  rose  leaves  and  geraniums.  Indeed,  I  think 
the  sweetest  anniversary  of  the  week  was  that  of 
these  flowers.  A  large  rhododendron  presided. 
Azaleas  and  verbenas  took  part  in  the  meeting. 
The  Chinese  honeysuckle  and  clematis  joined  in 
the  doxology.  A  magnolia  pronounced  the  bene- 
diction. And  M'e  went  home  praying  for  the 
time  when  the  lily  of  the  valley  shall  be  planted 
in  every  heart,  and  the  desert"^  shall  blossom  as 
ihe  rose. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
JONAH  VERSUS  THE  WHALE. 

Unbelievers  have  often  told  us  that  the  story 
of  the  prophet  swallowed  by  a  great  fish  was  an 
absurdity.  They  say  that,  so  long  in  the  stomach 
of  the  monster,  the  minister  would  have  been 
digested.  We  have  no  difficulty  in  this  matter. 
Jonah  was  a  most  unwilling  guest  of  the  whale. 
He  wanted  to  get  out.  However  much  he  may 
have  liked  fish,  he  did  not  want  it  three  times 
a  day  and  all  the  time.  So  he  kept  up  a  fidget, 
and  a  struggle,  and  a  turning  over,  and  he  gave 
the  whale  no  time  to  assimilate  him.  The  man 
knew  that  if  he  was  ever  to  get  out  he  must  be 
in  perpetual  motion.  We  know  men  that  are  so 
lethargic  they  would  have  given  the  matter  up, 
and  lain  down  so  quietly  that  in  a  few  hours 
they  would  have  gone  into  flukes  and  fish  bones, 
blow-holes  and  blubber. 

Now  we  see  men  all  around  us  who  have  been 
swallowed  by  monstrous  misfortunes.  Some  of 
them  sit  down  on  a  piece  of  whalebone  and  give 
up.  They  say :  ' '  No  use !  I  will  never  get  back 
my  money,  or  restore  my  good  name,  or  recover 
my  health. ' '  They  float  out  to  sea  and  are  never 
again  heard  of.  Others,  the  moment  they  go 
down  the  throat  of  some  great  trouble,  begin 
immediately  to  plan  for  egress.  They  make  rapid 
estimate  of  the  length  of  the  vertebrate,  and 
come  to  the  conclusion  how  far  they  are  in. 
They  dig  up  enough  spermaceti  out  of  the  dark- 
ness to  make  a  light,  and  keep  turning  this  way 
and  that,  till  the  first  you  know  they  are  out. 
Determination  to  get  well  has  much  to  do  witk 

129 


130  Around  the  Tea-table, 

recovered  invalidism.  Firm  will  to  defeat  bank- 
ruptcy decides  financial  deliverance.  Never  sur- 
render to  misfortune  or  discouragement.  You 
can,  if  you  are  spry  enough,  make  it  as  uncom- 
fortable for  the  whale  as  the  whale  can  make  it 
uncomfortable  for  you.  There  will  be  some  place 
where  you  can  brace  your  foot  against  his  ribs, 
and  some  long  upper  tooth  around  which  you  may 
take  hold,  and  he  will  be  as  glad  to  get  rid  of 
you  for  tenant  as  you  are  to  get  rid  of  him  for 
landlord.  There  is'  a  way,  if  you  are  determined 
to  find  it.  All  our  sympathies  are  with  the 
plaintifi*  in  the  suit  of  Jonah  versus  Leviathan. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
SOMETHING  UNDER  THE  SOFA. 

Not  more  than  twenty -five  miles  from  New 
York  city,  and  not  more  than  two  years  ago,  there 
stood  a  church  in  which  occurred  a  novelty.  We 
promised  not  to  tell ;  but  as  we  omit  all  names, 
we  think  ourselves  warranted  in  waiting  the 
sketch.  The  sacred  edifice  had  stood  more  than 
a  hundred  years,  until  the  doors  were  rickety, 
and  often  stood  open  during  the  secular  week. 
The  window  glass  in  many  places  had  been  broken 
out.  The  shingles  were  oft"  and  the  snow  drifted 
in,  and  the  congregation  during  a  shower  fre- 
quently sat  under  the  droppings  of  the  sanctuary. 
All  of  which  would  have  been  a  matter  for  sym- 
pathy, had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that  the  people 
of  the  neighborhood  were  nearly  all  wealthy,  and 
lived  in  large  and  comfortable  farm  houses,  mak- 
ing the  appearance  of  their  church  a  fit  subject 
for  satire. 

The  pulpit  was  giving  way  with  the  general 
wreck,  was  unpainted,  and  the  upholstery  on 
book-board  and  sofa  seemed  calling  out  'with 
Jew's  voice,  "Any  old  clo'?  Any  old  clo'?"  One 
Sabbath,  the  minister  felt  some  uneasiness  under 
the  sofa  while  the  congregation  were  singing,  and 
could  not  imagine  the  cause ;  but  found  out  the 
next  day  that  a  maternal  cat  had  made  her  nest 
there  with  her  group  of  ofi'spring,  who  had 
entered  upon  mortal  life  amid  these  honorable 
surroundings. 

Highly-favored  kittens !  If  they  do  not  turn 
out  well,  it  will  not  be  the  fault  of  their  mother, 
who  took  them  so  early  under  good   influences. 


132  Arouyid  the  Tea-table. 

In  the  temple  of  old  the  swallow  found  a  nest 
for  herself  where  she  might  lay  her  young ;  but 
this  is  the  first  time  we  ever  knew  of  the  con- 
ference of  such  honors  on  the  Felis  domestica. 
It  could  not  have  been  anything  mercenary  that 
took  the  old  cat  into  the' pulpit,  for  "poor  as  a 
church  mouse"  has  become  proverbial.  Nothing 
but  lofty  aspirations  could  have  taken  her  there, 
and  a  desire  that  her  young  should  have  ad- 
vantages of  high  birth.  If  in  the  "'Historical 
Society"  there  are  mummied  cats  two  thousand 
years  old,  much  more  will  post-mortem  honors  be 
due  this  ecclesiastical  Pussy. 

We  see  many  churches  in  city  as  well  as  town 
that  need  rehabilitation  and  reconstruction.     Peo- 

Ele  of  a  neighborhood  have  no  right  to  live  in 
ouses  better  constructed  than  their  church. 
Better  touch  up  the  fresco,  and  put  on  a  new  roof, 
and  tear  out  the  old  pews  which  ignore  the  shape 
of  a  man's  back,  and  supersede  the  smoky  lamps 
by  clarified  kerosene  or  cheap  gas  brackets. 
Lower  you  high  pulpit  that  your  preacher  may 
come  down  from  the  ^lont  Blanc  of  his  isolation 
and  solitariness  into  the  same  climate  of  sympathy 
■with  his  audience.  Tear  away  the  old  sofa, 
ragged  and  spring-broken,  on  which  the  pastors 
of  forty  years  have  been  obliged  to  sit,  and  see 
whether  there  are  any  cats  in  your  antediluvian 
pulpit. 

Would  it  not  be  well  for  us  all  to  look  under 
our  church  sofas  and  see  if  there  be  anything 
lurking  there  that  we  do  not  suspect?  A  cat,  in 
all  languages,  has  been  the  symbol  of  deceit  and 
spitef ulness,  and  she  is  more  fit  for  an  ash  barrel 
than  a  pulpit.  Since  we  heard  that  story  of  feline 
nativity,  whenever  we  see  a  minister  of  religion, 
on  some  question  of  Christian  reform,  skulking 
behind  a  barrier,  and  crawling  away  into  some 
half-and-half  position    on  the    subject  of  tern- 


Something  Under  the  Sofa.  133 

perance  or  oppression,  and  daring  not  to  speak 
out,  instead  of  making  his  pulpit  a  height  from 
which  to  hurl  the  truth  against  the  enemies  of 
God,  turtiing  it  into  a  cowardly  hiding  place,  we 
say,  "Another  cat  in  the  pulpit.  " 

Whenever  we  see  a  professed  minister  of  religion 
lacking  in  frankness  of  soul,  deceitful  in  his 
friendship,  shaking  hands  heartily  when  you 
meet  him,  but  in  private  taking  every  possible 
opportunity  of  giving  you  a  long,  deep  scratch, 
or  in  public  newspapers  giving  you  a  sly  dig  with 
the  claw  of  his  pen,  we  sav :  "Another  cat  in  the 
pulpit : " 

Once  a  year  let  all  our  churches  be  cleaned  with 
soap,  and  sand,  and  mop,  and  scrubbing  brush, 
and  the  sexton  not  forget  to  give  one  turn  of  his 
broom  under  the  pastor's  chair.  Would  that 
with  one  bold  and  emphatic  "scat!"  we  could 
drive  the  last  specimen  of  deceitfulness  and 
skulking  from  the  American  pulpit ! 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
THE  WAY  TO  KEEP  FRESH. 

How  to  get  out  of  the  old  rut  without  twisting 
off  the  wheel,  or  snapping  the  shafts,  or  break- 
ing the  horse's  leg,  is  a  question  not  more  appro- 
priate to  every  teamster  than  to  every  Christian 
worker.  Having  once  got  out  of  the  old  rut,  the 
next  thing  is  to  keep  out.  There  is  nothing  more 
killing  than  ecclesiastical  humdrum.  Some  per- 
sons do  not  like  the  Episcopal  Church  because 
they  have  the  same  prayers  every  Sabbath,  but 
have  we  not  for  the  last  ten  years  been  hearing 
the  same  prayers  over  and  oVer  again,  the  pro- 
duct of  a  self-manufactured  liturgy  that  has  not 
the  thousandth  part  of  the  excellency  of  those 
petitions  that  we  hear  in  the  Episcopal 
Church? 

In  many  of  our  churches  sinners  hear  the  same 
exhortations  that  they  have  been  hearing  for  the 
last  fifteen  years,  so  that  the  impenitent  man 
knows,  the  moment  the  exhorter  clears  his  throat, 
just  what  is  going  to  be  said ;  and  the  hearer 
himself  is  able  to  recite  the  exhortation  as  we 
teach  our  children  the  multiplication  table  for- 
ward or  backward.  We  could  not  understand  the 
doleful  strain  of  a  certain  brother's  prayer  till  we 
found  out  that  he  composed  it  on  a  fast  day  dur- 
ing the  yellow  fever  in  1821,  and  has  been  using 
it  ever  since. 

There  are  laymen  who  do  not  like  to  hear  a 
sermon  preached  the  second  time  who  yet  give 
their  pastors  the  same  prayer  every  week  at  the 
•devotional  meeting — that  is,  fifty-twp  times  the 
year,  with  occasional  slices  of  it  between  meals. 


The  Way  to  Keep  F?'esh.  135 

If  they  made  any  spiritual  advancement,  they 
would  have  new  wants  to  express  and  new 
thanksgivings  to  offer.  But  they  have  been  for 
a  decade  of  years  stuck  fast  in  the  mud,  and  they 
splash  the  same  thing  on  you  every  week.  We 
need  a  universal  church  cleaning  by  which 
all  canting  and  humdrum  shall  be  scrubbed 
out' 

If  we  would  keep  fresh,  let  us  make  occasional 
excursions  into  other  circles  than  our  own. 
Artists  generally  go  with  artists,  farmers  with 
farmers,  mechanics  with  mechanics,  clergymen 
with  clerg^^men,  Christian  workers  with  Christian 
workers.  But  there  is  nothing  that  sooner  freshens 
one  up  than  to  get  in  a  new  group,  mingling  M'ith 
people  whose  thought  and  work  run  in  diflferent 
channels.  For  a  change  put  the  minister  on  the 
hay  rack  and  the  farmer  in  the  clergyman's 
study. 

Let  us  read  books  not  in  our  own  line.  After  a 
man  has  been  delving  in  nothing  but  theological 
works  for  three  months,  a  few  pages  in  the  Patent- 
office  Report  will  do  him  more  good  than  Doctor 
Dick  on  ' '  The  Perseverance  of  the  Saints. ' '  Better 
than  this,  as  a  diversion,  is  it  to  have  some  de- 
partment of  natural  history  or  art  to  which  you 
may  turn,  a  case  of  shells  or  birds,  or  a  season 
ticket  to  some  picture  gallery.  If  you  do  noth- 
ing but  play  on  one  string  of  the  bass  viol,  you 
will  wear  it  out  and  get  no  healthy  tune.  Better 
take  the  bow  and  sweep  it  clear  across  in  one 
grand  swirl,  bringing  all  four  strings  and  all  eight 
stops  into  requisition. 

Let  us  go  much  into  the  presence  of  the  natural 
world  if  we  can  get  at  it.  Especially  if  we  live 
in  great  thoroughfares  let  us  make  occasional 
flight  to  the  woods  and  the  mountains.  Even  the 
trees  in  town  seem  artificial.  They  dare  not  speak 
where  there  are  so  many  to  listen,  and  the  hya- 


136  Around  the  Tea-table. 

cinth  and  geranium  in  flower  pots  in  the  window 
seem  to  know  they  are  on  exhibition.  If  we 
M^ould  once  in  a  while  romp  the  fields,  we  would 
not  have  so  many  last  year's  rose  leaves  in  our 
sermons,  but  those  just  plucked,  dewy  and  redo- 
lent. 

We  cannot  see  the  natural  world  through  the 
books  or  the  eyes  of  others.  All  this  talk  about 
*' babbling  brooks"  is  a  stereotyped  humbug. 
Brooks  never  "babble."  To  babble  is  to  be 
unintelligent  and  imperfect  of  tongue.  But  when 
the  brooks  speak,  they  utter  lessons  of  beauty 
that  the  dullest  ear  can  understand.  We  have 
wandered  from  the  Androscoggin  in  Maine  to  the 
Tombigbee  in  Alabama,  and  we  never  found  a 
brook,  that  "babbled."  The  people  babble  who 
talk  about  them,  not  knowing  what  a  brook  is. 
We  have  heard  about  the  nightingale  and  the 
morning  lark  till  we  tire  of  them.  Catch  for 
your  next  prayer  meeting  talk  a  chewink  or  a 
brown  thresher.  It  is  high  time  that  we  hoist 
our  church  windows,  especially  those  over  the 
pulpit,  and  let  in  some  fresh  air  from  the  fields 
^id  mount-ains. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
CHRISTMAS  BELLS. 

The  sexton  often  goes  into  the  tower  on  a  sad 
errand.  He  gives  a  strong  pull  at  the  rope,  and 
forth  from  the  tower  goes  a  dismal  sound  that 
makes  the  heart  sink.  But  he  can  now  go  up  the 
old  stairs  with  a  lithe  step  and  pull  quick  and 
sharp,  wakin»  up  all  the  echoes  of  cavern  and 
hill  with  Christmas  bells.  The  days  of  joy  have 
come,  days  of  reunion,  days  of  congratulation. 
"Behold  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy 
that  shall  be  to  all  people. ' ' 

First,  let  the  bells  ring  at  the  birth  of  Jesus! 
Mary  watching,  the  camels  moaning,  the  shep- 
herds rousing  up,  the  angels  hovering,  all  Beth- 
lehem stirring.  What  a  night !  Out  of  its  black 
wing  is  plucked  the  pen  from  which  to  write  the 
brightest  songs  of  earth  and  the  richest  doxologiea 
of  heaven.  Let  camel  or  ox  stabled  that  night 
in  Bethlehem,  after  the  burden-bearing  of  the 
day,  stand  and  look  at  Him  who  is  to  carry  the 
burdens  of  the  world.  Put  back  the  straw  and 
hear  the  first  cry  of  Him  who  is  come  to  assuage 
the  lamentation  of  all  ages. 

Christmas  bells  ring  out  the  peace  of  nations ! 
We  want  on  our  standards  less  of  the  lion  and 
eagle  and  more  of  the  dove.  Let  all  the  cannon 
be  dismounted,  and  the  war  horses  change  their 
gorgeous  caparisons  for  plough  harness.  Let  us 
have  fewer  bullets  and  more  bread.  Life  is  too 
precious  to  dash  it  out  against  the  brick  case- 
ments. The  first  Peace  Society  was  born  in  the 
clouds,  and  its  resolution  was  passed  unanimously 

137 


138  Around  the  Tea-table. 

by  angelic  voices,  "Peace  on  earth,  good-will  to 
men. ' ' 

Christmas  bells  ring  in  family  reunions !  The 
rail  trains  crowded  with  children  coming  home. 
The  poultry,  fed  as  never  since  they  were  bom, 
stand  wondering  at  the  farmer's  generosity.  The 
markets  are  full  of  massacred  barnyards.  The 
great  table  will  be  spread  and  crowded  with  two, 
or  three,  or  four  generations.  Plant  the  fork 
astride  the  breast  bone,  and  with  skillful  twitch, 
that  we  could  never  learn,  give  to  all  the  hungry 
lookers-on  a  specimen  of  holiday  anatomy.  Mary 
is  disposed  to  soar,  give  her  the  wing.  The  boy 
is  fond  of  music,  give  him  the  drum  stick.  The 
minister  is  dining  with  you,  give  him  the  par- 
son's nose.  May  the  joy  reach  from  grandfather, 
who  is  so  dreadful  old  he  can  hardly  find  the 
way  to  his  plate,  down  to  the  baby  in  the  high 
chair  with  one  smart  pull  of  the  table  cloth  up- 
setting the  gravy  into  the  cranberry.  Send  from 
your  table  a  liberal  portion  to  the  table  of  the 
poor,  some  of  the  white  meat  as  well  as  the  dark, 
not  confining  your  generosity  to  gizzards  and 
scraps.  Do  not,  as  in  some  families,  keep  a  plate 
and  chair  for  those  who  are  dead  and  gone. 
Your  holiday  feast  would  be  but  poor  fare  for 
them ;  they  are  at  a  better  banquet  in  the  skies. 

Let  the  whole  land  be  full  of  chime  and  carol. 
Let  bells,  silver  and  brazen,  take  their  sweetest 
voice,  and  all  the  towers  of  Christendom  rain 
music. 

We  wish  all  our  friends  a  merry  Christmas. 
Let  them  hang  up  their  stockings ;  and  if  Santa 
Claus  has  any  room  for  us  in  his  sleigh,  we  will 
get  in  and  ri(ie  down  their  chimney,  upsetting  all 
over  the  hearth  a  thousand  good  wishes. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
POOR  PREACHING. 

There  never  was  a  time  when  in  all  denomi- 
nations of  Christians  there  was  so  much  attractive 
sermonizing  as  to-day.  Princeton,  and  Middle- 
town,  and  Rochester,  and  New  Brunswick,  are 
sending  into  the  ministry  a  large  number  of 
sharp,  earnest,  consecrated  men.  Stupidity,  after 
being  regularly  ordained,  is  found  to  be  no  more 
acceptable  to 'the  people  than  before,  and  the 
title  of  Doctorate  cannot  any  longer  be  substituted 
for  brains.  Perhaps,  however,  there  may  get  to 
be  a  surfeit  of  fine  discourses.  Indeed,  we  have 
so  many  appliances  for  making  bright  and  incisive 
preachers  that  we  do  not  know  but  that  after  a 
while,  when  we  want  a  sleepy  discourse  as  an 
anodyne,  we  shall  have  to  go  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth  to  find  one ;  and  dull  sermons  may  be  at 
a  premium,  congregations  of  limited  means  not 
being  able  to  afford^  them  at  all ;  and  so  we  shall 
have  to  fall  back  on  chloral  or  morphine.  _ 

Are  we  not,  therefore,  doing  a  humanitarian 
work  when  we  give  to  congregations  some  rules 
by  which,  if  they  want  it,  they  may  always  have 
poor  preaching? 

First.  Keep  your  minister  poor.  There  is 
nothing  more  ruinous  than  to  pay  a  pastor  too 
much  salary.  Let  every  board  of  tiiistees  look 
over  their  books  and  see  if  they  have  erred  in 
this  direction ;  and  if  so,  let  them  cut  down  the 
minister's  wages.  There  are  churches  which  pay 
their  pastors  eight  hundred  dollars  per  annum. 
What  these  good  men  do  with  so  much  money  we 
cannot  imagine.     Our  ministers   must  be  taken 

139 


140  Around  the  Tea-table. 

in.  If  by  occasional  fasting  for  a  day  our  Puritan 
fathers  in  New  England  became  so  good,  what 
might  we  not  expect  of  our  ministers  if  we  kept 
them  in  perpetual  fast?  No  doubt  their  spiritual 
capacity  would  enlarge  in  proportion  -to  their 
shrinkage  at  the  waistcoat.  The  average  salary 
of  ministers  in  the  United  States  is  about  six 
hundred  dollars.  Perhaps  by  some  spiritual  pile- 
driver  we  might  send  it  down  to  live  hundred 
dollars;  and  then  the  millennium,  for  the  lion 
by  that  time  would  be  so  hungry  he  would  let 
the  lamb  lie  clown  inside  of  him.  We  would 
suggest  a  very  economical  plan :  give  your  spiritual 
adviser  a  smaller  income,  and  make  it  up  by  a 
donation  visit.  When  everything  else  fails  to 
keep  him  properly  humble,  *^that  succeeds.  We 
speak  from  experience.  Fourteen  years  ago  we 
had  one,  and  it  has  been  a  means  of  grace  to  us 
ever  since. 

Secondly.  For  securing  poor  preaching,  wait  on 
your  pastor  with  frequent  committees.  Let  three 
men  some  morning  tie  their  horses  at  the 
dominie's  gate,  and  go  in  and  tell  him  how  to 
preach,  and  pray,  and  visit.  Tell  him  all  the 
disagreeable  things  said  about  him  for  six 
months,  and  what  a  great  man  his  predecessor 
was,  how  much  plainer  his  wife  dressed,  and 
how  much  better  his  children  behaved.  Pastoral 
committees  are  not  like  the  small-pox — you  can 
have  them  more  than  once ;  they  are  more  like 
the  mumps,  which  you  may  have  first  on  one 
side  and  then  on  the  other.  If,  after  a  man  has 
had  the  advantage  of  being  manipulated  by  three 
church  committees,  he  has  any  pride  or  spirit 
left,  better  give  him  up  as  incorrigible. 

Thirdly.  To  secure  poor  preaching,  keep  the 
minister'on  the  trot.  Scold  him  when  he  comes 
to  see  you  because  he  did  not  come  before,  and 
tell    him  how  often   you  were    visited  by  the 


Poor  Preaching .  141 

former  pastor.  Oh,  that  blessed  predecessor! 
Strange  they  did  not  hold  on  to  the  angel  when 
they  had  him.  Keep  your  minister  going.  Ex- 
pect him  to  respond  to  every  whistle.  Have  him 
at  all  the  tea  parties  and  "the  raisings."  Stand 
him  in  the  draught  of  the  door  at  the  funeral — a 
frequent  way  of  declaring  a  pulpit  vacant.  Keep 
him  busy  all  the  week  in  out-door  miscellaneous 
work  ;  and  if  at  the  end  of  that  time  he  cannot 
preach  a  weak  discourse,  send  for  us,  and  we  will 
show  him  how  to  do  it.  Of  course  there  are 
exceptions  to  all  rules ;  but  if  the  plan  of  treat- 
ment we  have  proposed  be  carried  out,  we  do  not 
see  that  any  church  in  city  or  country  need  long 
be  in  want' of  poor  preaching. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

SHELVES  A  MAN'S  INDEX. 

In  Chelsea,  a  suburb  of  London,  and  on  a  nar- 
row street,  with  not  even  a  house  in  front,  but, 
instead  thereof,  a  long  range  of  brick  wall,  is  the 
house  of  Thomas  Carlyle.  You  go  through  a  nar- 
row hall  and  turn  to  the  left,  and  are  in  the 
literary  workshop  where  some  of  the  strongest 
thunderbolts  of  the  world  have  been  forged.  The 
two  front  windows  have  on  them  scant  curtains 
of  reddish  calico,  hung  at  the  top  of  the  lower 
sash,  so  as  not  to  keep  the  sun  from  looking 
down,  but  to  hinder  the  street  from  looking  in. 

The  room  has  a  lounge  covered  with  the  same 
material,  and  of  construction  such  as  you  would 
find  in  the  plainest  house  among  the  mountains. 
It  looks  as  if  it  had  been  made  by  an  author  not 
accustomed  to  saw  or  hammer,  and  in  the  inter- 
stices of  mental  work.  On  the  wall  are  a  few 
wood-cuts  in  plain  frames  or  pinned  against  the 
wall ;  also  a  photograph  of  INlr.  Carlyle  taken  one 
day,  as  his  family  told  us,  when  he  had  a  violent 
toothache  and  could  attend  to  nothing  else.  It 
is  his  favorite  picture,  though  it  gives  him  a  face 
more  than  ordinarily  severe  and  troubled. 

In  long  shelves,  unpainted  and  unsheltered  l>y 
glass  or  door,  is  the  library  of  the  world-renowned 
thinker.  The  books  are  worn,  as  though  he  had 
bought  them  to  read.  Many  of  them  are  un- 
common books,  the  titles  of  which  we  never  saw 
before.  American  literature  is  almost  ignored, 
while  Germany  monopolizes  many  of  the  spaces. 
We  noticed  the  absence  of  theological  works,  save 
those  of   Thomas    Chalmers,    whose   name    and 

142 


Shelves  a  Man' s  Index.  145 

genius  he  well-nigh  worshiped.  The  carpets  are 
old  and  worn  and  faded — not  because  he  cannot 
afford  better,  but  because  he  would  have  his 
home  a  perpetual  protest  against  the  world's 
sham.  It  is  a  place  not  calculated  to  give  inspi- 
ration to  a  writer.  No  easy  chairs,  no  soft  divans, 
no  wealth  of  upholstery,  but  simply  a  place  to 
work  and  stay.  Never  having  heard  a  word 
about  it,  it  was  nevertheless  just  such  a  place  as 
we  expected. 

We  had  there  confirmed  our  former  theory  of  a 
man's  study  as  only  a  part  of  himself,  or  a  piece 
of  tight-fitting  clothing.  It  is  the  shell  of  the 
tortoise,  just  made  to  fit  the  tortoise's  back. 
Thomas  Carlyle  could  have  no  other  kind  of  a 
workshop.  What  would  he  do  with  a  damask- 
covered  table,  or  a  gilded  inkstand,  or  an  uphol- 
stered window?  Starting  with  the  idea  that  the 
intellect  is  all  and  the  body  naught  but  an  ad- 
junct or  appendage,  he  will  show  that  the  former 
can  live  and  thrive  without  any  approval  of  the 
latter.  He  will  give  the  intellect  all  costly 
stimulus,  and  send  the  body  supperless  to  bed. 
Thomas  Carlyle  taken  as  a  premise,  this  shabby 
room  is  the  inevitable  conclusion.  Behold  the 
principle. 

We  have  a  poetic  friend.  The  backs  of  his 
books  are  scrolled  and  transfigured.  A  vase  of 
japonicas,  even  in  mid-winter,  adorns  his  writing 
desk.  The  hot-house  is  as  important  to  him  as 
the  air.  There  are  soft  engravings  on  the  wall. 
This  study-chair  was  made  out  of  the  twisted 
roots  of  a  banyan.  A  dog,  sleek-skinned,  lies  on 
the  mat,  and  gets  up  as  you  come  in.  There 
stand  in  vennilion  all  the  poets  from  Homer  to 
Tennyson.  Here  and  there  are  chamois  heads 
and  pressed  seaweed.  He  writes  on  gilt-edged 
paper  with  a  gold  pen  and  handle  twisted  with 
a  serpent.     His  inkstand  is  a  mystery  of  beauty 


144  Arou7id  the  Tea-table. 

which  unskilled  hands  dare  not  touch,  lest  the 
ink  spring  at  him  from  some  of  the  open  mouths, 
tjr  sprinkle  on  him  from  the  bronze  wings,  or 
with  some  unexpected  squirt  dash  into  his  eyes 
the  blackness  of  darkness. 

We  have  a  very  precise  friend.  Everything  is 
in  severe  order.  Finding  his  door-knob  in  the 
dark,  you  could  reason  out  the  position  of  stove, 
and  chair,  and  table ;  and  placing  an  arrow  at 
the  back  of  the  book  on  one  end  of  the  shelf,  it 
would  fly  to  the  other  end,  equally  grazing  all 
the  bindings.  It  is  ten  years  since  John  Milton, 
or  Robert  Southey,  or  Sir  William  Hamilton  have 
been  out  of  their  places,  and  that  was  when  an 
ignoramus  broke  into  the  study.  The  volumes  of 
the  encyclopedias  never  change  places.  Manu- 
scripts unblotted,  and  free  from  interlineation, 
and  labeled.  The  spittoon  knows  its  place  in  the 
corner,  as  if  treated  by  tobacco  chewers  with  oft 
indignity.  You  could  go  into  that  study  with 
your  eyes  shut,  turn  around,  and  without  feeling 
for  the  chair  throw  yourself  back  with  perfect 
confidence  that  the  furniture  would  catch  you. 
No  better  does  a  hat  fit  his  head,  or  shoe  his  foot, 
or  the  glove  his  hand,  than  the  study  fits  his 
whole  nature 

We  have  a  facetious  friend.  You  pick  off  the 
corner  of  his  writing  table  "Xoctes  Ambrosianae" 
or  the  London  "Punch."  His  chair  is  wide,  so 
that  he  can  easily  roll  off  on  the  floor  when  he 
wants  a  good  time  at  laughing.  His  inkstand  is 
»  monkey,  with  the  variations.  His  study-cap 
would  upset  a  judge's  risibilities.  Scrap  books 
with  droll  caricatures  and  facetiae.  An  odd  stove, 
exciting  your  wonder  as  to  where  the  coal  is  put 
in  or  the  poker  thrust  for  a  shaking.  All  the 
works  of  Douglass  Jerrold,  and  Sydney  Smith, 
and  Sterne,  the  scalawag  ecclesiastic.  India-rub- 
ber faces  capable  of  being  squashed  into  anything. 


Shelves  a  Man' s  Index,  145 

Puzzles  that  you  cannot  untangle.  The  four 
walls  covered  with  cuts  and  engravings  sheared 
from  weekly  pictorials  and  recklessly  taken  from 
parlor  table  books.  Prints  that  put  men  and 
women  into  hopeless  satire. 

We  have  a  friend  of  many  peculiarities.  Enter- 
ing his  house,  you  find  nothing  in  the  place 
where  you  expected  it.  '*Don  Quixote,"  with 
all  its  windmills  mixed  up  with  *'Dr.  Dick  on 
the  Sacraments, ' '  Mark  Twain's  ' '  Jumping  Frog, ' ' 
and  '  *  Charnock  on  the  Attributes. ' '  Passing  across 
the  room,  you  stumble  against  the  manuscript  of 
his  last  lecture,  or  put  your  foot  in  a  piece  of 
pie  that  has  fallen  off  the  end  of  the  writing 
table.  You  mistake  his  essay  on  the  "Coperni- 
can  System"  for  blotting  paper.  Many  of  his 
books  are  bereft  of  the  binding ;  and  in  attempt- 
ing to  replace  the  covers,  Hudibras  gets  the  cover 
which  belongs  to  "Barnes  on  the  Acts  of  the 
Apostles. ' '  An  earthquake  in  the  room  would  be 
more  apt  to  improve  than  to  unsettle.  There  are 
marks  where  the  inkstand  became  unstable  and 
made  a  handwriting  on  the  wall  that  even  Daniel 
could  not  have  interpreted.  If,  some  fatal  day, 
the  wife  or  housekeeper  come  in,  while  the  occu- 
pant is  absent,  to  "clear  up,"  a  damage  is  done 
that  requires  weeks  to  rej^air.  For  many  days 
the  question  is,  "Where  is  my  pen?  Who  haa 
the  concordance?  What  on  earth  has  become  of 
the  dictionary?  Where  is  the  paper  cutter?" 
Work  is  impeded,  patience  lost,  engagements  are 
broken,  because  it  was  not  understood  that  the 
study  is  a  part  of  the  student's  life,  and  that 
you  might  as  well  try  to  change  the  knuckles  to 
the  inside  of  the  hand,  or  to  set  the  eyes  in  the 
middle  of  the  forehead,  as  to  make  the  man  of 
whom  we  speak  keep  his  pen  on  the  rack,  or  his 
books  off  the  floor,  or  the  blotting  paper  straight 
in  the  portfolio. 


146  Around  the  Tea-table. 

The  study  is  a  part  of  the  mental  development. 
Don't  blame  a  man  for  the  style  of  his  literary 
apartments  any  more  than  you  would  for  the 
color  of  his  hair  or  the  shape  of  his  nose.  If 
Hobbes  carries  his  study  with  him,  and  his  pen 
and  his  inkstand  in  the  top  of  his  cane,  so  let 
him  carry  them.  K  Lamartinecan  best  compose 
while  walking  his  park,  paper  and  pencil  in 
hand,  so  let  him  ramble.  If  Robert  Hall  thinks 
easiest  when  lying  flat  on  his  back,  let  him  be 
prostrate.  If  Lamasius  writes  best  surrounded 
by  children,  let  loose  on  him  the  whole  nursery. 
Don't  criticise  Charles  Dickens  because  he  threw 
all  his  study  windows  wide  open  and  the  shades 
up.  It  may  fade  the  carpet,  but  it  will  pour  sun- 
shine into  the  hearts  of  a  million  readers.  If 
Thomas  Carlyle  chose  to  call  around  an  ink- 
spattered  table  Goethe,  and  Schiller,  and  Jean  Paul 
Frederick  Richter,  and  dissect  the  shams  of  the 
world  with  a  plain  goose-quill,  so  be  it.  The 
horns  of  an  ox's  head  are  not  more  certainly  a 
part  of  the  ox  than  Thomas  Carlyle 's  study  and 
all  its  appointments  are  a  part  of  Thomas  Carlyle. 

The  gazelle  will  have  soft  fur,  and  the  lion  a 
shaggy  hide,  and  the  sanctum  sanctorum  is  the 
student's  cuticle. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 
BEHAVIOR  AT  CHURCH. 

Around  the  door  of  country  meeting-houses  it 
has  always  been  the  custom  for  the  people  to 
gather  before  and  after  church  for  social  inter- 
course and  the  shaking  of  hands.  Perhaps  because 
we,  ourselves,  were  born  in  the  country  and  had 
never  got  over  it,  the  custom  pleases  us.  In  the 
cities  we  arrive  the  last  moment  before  service 
and  go  away  the  first  moment  after.  We  act  as 
though  the  church  were  a  rail-car,  into  which  we 
go  when  the  time  for  starting  arrives,  and  we 
get  out  again  as  soon  as  the  depot  of  the  Doxology 
is  reached.  We  protest  against  this  business  way 
of  doing  things.  Shake  hands  when  the  benedic- 
tion is  pronounced  with  those  who  sat  before  and 
those  who  sat  behind  you.  Meet  the  peojDle  in 
the  aisle,  and  give  them  Christian  salutation. 
Postponement  of  the  dining  hour  for  fifteen 
minutes  will  damage  neither  you  nor  the  dinner. 
That  is  the  moment  to  say  a  comforting  word  to 
the  man  or  woman  in  trouble.  The  sermon  was 
preached  to  the  people  in  general ;  it  is  your  place 
to  apply  it  to  the  individual  heart. 

The  church  aisle  may  be  made  the  road  to 
heaven.  Many  a  man  who  was  unaffected  by 
what  the  minister  said  has  been  captured  for  Goci 
by  the  Christian  word  of  an  unpretending  lay- 
man on  the  way  out. 

You  may  call  it  personal  magnetism,  or  natural 
cordiality,  but  there  are  some  Christians  who 
have  such  an  ardent  way  of  shaking  hands  after 
meeting  that  it  amounts  to  a  benediction.     Such 

147 


148  Arou7id  the  Tea-table. 

greeting  is  not  made  with  the  left  hand.  The 
left  hand  is  good  for  a  great  many  things,  for 
instance  to  hold  a  fork  or  twist  a  curl,  but  it 
was  never  made  to  shake  hands  with,  unless  you 
have  lost  the  use  of  the  right.  Nor  is  it  done 
by  the  tips  of  the  fingers  laid  loosely  in  the  palm 
of  another.  Nor  is  it  done  with  a  glove  on. 
Gloves  are  good  to  keep  out  the  cold  and  make 
one  look  well,  but  have  them  so  they  can  easily 
be  removed,  as  they  should  be,  for  they  are  non- 
conductors of  Christian  magnetism.  Make  bare 
the  hand.  Place  it  in  the  palm  of  your  friend. 
€lench  the  fingers  across  the  back  part  of  the 
hand  you  grip.  Then  let  all  the  animation  of 
3'our  heart  rush  to  the  shoulder,  and  from  there 
to  the  elbow,  and  then  through  the  fore  arm  and 
through  the  wrist,  till  your  friend  gets  the  whole 
charge  of  gospel  electricity. 

In  Paul's  time  he  told  the  Christians  to  greet 
•each  other  with  a  holy  kiss.  We  are  glad  the 
custom  has  been  dropped,  for  there  are  many 
good  people  who  would  not  want  to  kiss  us,  as 
we  would  not  want  to  kiss  them.  Very  attractive 
persons  would  find  the  supply  greater  than  the 
oemand.  But  let  as  have  a  substitute  suited  to 
our  age  and  land.  Let  it  be  good,  hearty,  en- 
thusiastic, Christian  hand-shaking. 

Governor  Wiseman,  our  grave  friend  at  tea, 
'broke  in  upon  us  at  this  moment  and  said :  I  am 
not  fond  of  indiscriminate  hand-shaking,  and  so 
am  not  especially  troubled  by  the  lack  of  cordiality 
on  the  part  of  church-goers.  But  I  am  sometimes 
very  much  annoyed  on  Sabbaths  with  the  habit 
of  some  good  people  in  church.  It  may  be  foolish 
in  me ;  but  when  the  wind  blows  from  the  east, 
it  takes  but  little  to  disturb  me. 

There  are  some  of  the  best  Christian  people 
who  do  not  know  how  to  carry  themselves  in 
religious  assemblage.     They  never  laugh.     They 


Behavior  at  Church  .  149 

never  applaud.  ^  They  never  hiss.     Yet,  notwith- 
standing, are  disturbers  of  public  worship. 

There  is,  for  instance,  the  coughing  brigade. 
If  any  individual  right  ought  to  be  maintained 
at  air  hazards,  it  is  the  right  of  coughing.  There 
are  times  when  you  must  cough.  There  is  an 
irresistible  tickling  in  the  throat  which  demands 
audible  demonstration.  It  is  moved,  seconded 
and  unanimously  carried  that  those  who  have 
irritated  windpipes  be  heard.  But  there  are  ways 
with  hand  or  handkerchief  of  breaking  the 
repercussion.  A  smothered  cough  la  dignified 
and  acceptable  if  you  have  nothing  better  to  offer. 
But  how  many  audiences  have  had  their  peace 
sacrificed  by  unrestrained  expulsion  of  air  through 
the  glottis!  After  a  sudden  change  in  the 
weather,  there  is  a  fearful  charge  made  by  the 
coughing  brigade.  They  open  their  mouths  wide, 
and  make  the  arches  ring  with  the  racket.  They 
begin  with  a  faint  ''Ahem!"  and  gi-adually  rise 
and  fall  through  all  the  scale  of  dissonance,  as 
much  as  to  say :  ' '  Hear,  all  ye  good  people !  I 
have  a  cold !  I  have  a  bad  cold !  I  have  an  awful 
bad  cold!  Hear  how  it  racks  me,  tears  me, 
torments  me.  It  seems  as  if  my  diaphragm  must 
be  split.  I  took  this  awful  bad  cold  the  other 
night.  I  added  to  it  last  Sunday,  Hear  how  it 
goes  off!  There  it  is  again.  Oh  dear  me!  If 
I  only  had  'Brown's  troches,'  or  the  syrup  of 
squills,  or  a  mustard  plaster,  or  a  woolen  stocking 
turned  wrong  side  out  around  m;^  neck ! ' '  Brethren 
and  sisters  who  took  cold  by  sitting  in  the  same 
draught  join  the  clamor,  and  it  is  glottis  to 
glottis,  and  laryngitis  to  laryngitis,  and  a  choi-us 
of  scrapings  and  explosions  which  make  the 
service  hideous  for  a  preacher  of  sensitive 
nerves. 

We  have  seen  people  under  the  pulpit  coughing 
with    their    mouth   so  far  open   we    have   been 


150  Arou7id  the  Tea-table. 

tempted  to  jump  into  it.  There  are  some  per- 
sons who  have  a  convenient  ecclesiastical  cough. 
It  does  not  trouble  them  ordinarily ;  but  when  in 
church  you  get  them  thoroughly  cornered  with 
some  practical  truth,  they  smother  the  end  of  the 
sentences  with  a  favorite  paroxysm.  There  is 
a  man  in  our  church  who  is  apt  to  be  taken  with 
one  of  these  fits  just  as  the  contribution  box 
comes  to  him,  and  cannot  seem  to  get  his  breath 
again  till  he  hears  the  pennies  rattling  in  the 
box  behind  him.  Cough  by  all  means,  but  put 
on  the  brakes  when  you  come  to  the  down  grade, 
or  send  the  racket  through  at  least  one  fold  of 
your  pocket-handkerchief. 

Governor  Wiseman  went  on  further  to  say  that 
the  habits  of  the  pulpit  sometimes  annoyed  him 
as  much  as  the  habits  of  the  pew.  The  Governor 
said:  I  cannot  bear  the  "preliminaries"  of 
religious  service. 

By  common  consent  the  exercises  in  the 
churches  going  before  the  sermon  are  called 
"preliminaries."  The  dictionary  says  that  a 
"preliminary"  is  that  which  precedes  the  main 
business.  \Ve  do  not  think  the  sermon  ought  to 
be  considered  the  main  business.  When  a  pastor 
at  the  beginning  of  the  first  prayer  says  "O 
God ! "  he  has  entered  upon  the  most  important 
duty  of  the  service.  We  would  not  depreciate 
the  sermon,  but  we  plead  for  more  attention  to 
the  "preliminaries."  If  a  minister  cannot  get 
the  attention  of  the  people  for  prayer  or  Bible 
reading,  it  is  his  own  fault.  Much  of  the  in- 
terest of  a  service  depends  upon  how  it  is 
launched. 

The  "preliminaries"  are,  for  the  most  part, 
the  time  in  which  people  in  church  examine 
their  neighbors'  clothes.  Milliners  and  tailors 
get  the  advantage  of  the  first  three-quarters  of 
an  hour.     The  "preliminaries"  are  the  time  to 


Behavior  at  Church. 


isi 


gcrutinize  the  fresco,  and  look  round  to  see  who 
is  there,  and  get  yourself  generally  fixed. 

This  idea  is  fostered  by  home  elocutionary' 
professors  who  would  have  the  minister  take  the 
earlier  exercises  of  the  occasion  to  get  his  voice 
in  tune.  You  must  not  speak  out  at  first.  It  is 
to  be  a  private  interview  between  you  and 
heaven.  The  people  will  listen  to  the  low  grumble, 
and  think  it  must  be  very  good  if  they  could 
only  hear  it.  As  for  ourselves,  we  refuse  to  put 
down  our  head  in  public  prayer  until  we  find  out 
whether  or  not  M'e  are  going  to  be  able  to  hear. 
Though  you  preach  like  an  angel,  you  will  not 
say  anything  more  important  than  that  letter  of 
St"  Paul  to  the  Corinthians,  or  that  Psalm  of 
David  which  you  have  just  now  read  to  the 
"backs  of  the  heads  of  the  congregation.  LajTnen 
and  ministers,  speak  out!  The  opening  exercises 
were  not  instituted  to  clear  your  voice,  but  to  save 
fiouls.  If  need  be,  squeeze  a  lemon  and  eat 
* 'Brown's  troches"  for  the  sake  of  your  voice 
before  you  go  to  church ;  but  once  there,  make 
your  first  sentence  resonant  and  mighty  for  God. 
An  hour  and  a  half  is  short  time  anyhow  to  get 
five  hundred  or  five  thousand  people  ready  for 
heaven.  It  is  thought  classic  and  elegant  to  have 
a  delicate  utterance,  and  that  loud  tones  are  vul- 
:gar.  But  we  never  heard  of  people  being  con- 
verted by  anything  they  could  not  hear.  It  is 
said  thaton  the  Mount  of  Olives  Christ  opened  His 
mouth  and  taught  them,  by  which  we  conclude 
He  spake  out  distinctly.  God  has  given  most 
Christians  plenty  of  lungs,  but  they  are  too  lazy 
to  use  them.  There  are  in  the  churches  old  peo- 
ple hard  of  hearing  who,  if  the  exercises  be 
not  clear  and  emphatic,  get  no  advantage  save 
that  of  looking  at  the  blessed  minister. 

People  say  in  apology  for  their  inaudible  tones : 
^'It  is  not  the  thunder  that  kills,  but  the  light- 


152  Aroimd  the  Tea-table. 

ning. "  True  enough;  but  I  think  that  God 
thinks  well  of  the  thunder  or  He  would  not  use 
60  much  of  it.  First  of  all,  make  the  people  hear 
the  prayer  and  the  chapter.  If  you  want  to  hold 
np  at  all,  let  it  be  on  the  sermon  and  the  notices. 
Let  the  pulpit  and  all  the  pews  feel  that  there 
axe  no  "preliminaries. " 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
MASCULINE  AND  FEMININE. 

There  are  men  who  suppose  they  have  all  the 
annoyances.  They  say  it  is  the  store  that  ruffles 
the  disposition ;  but  if  they  could  only  stay  at 
home  as  do  their  wives,  and  sisters,  and  daughters, 
they  would  be,  all  the  time,  sweet  and  fair  as  a 
white  pond  lily.  Let  some  of  the  masculine 
lecturers  on  placidity  of  temper  try  for  one  week 
the  cares  of  the  household  and  the  family.  Let 
the  man  sleep  with  a  baby  on  one  arm  all  night, 
and  one  ear  open  to  the  children  with  the  whoop- 
ing-cough in  the  adjoining  apartment.  Let  him 
see  the  tray  of  crockery  and  the  cook  fall  down 
stairs,  and  nothing  saved  but  the  pieces.  Let 
the  pump  give  out  on  a  wash-day,  and  the  stove 
pipe,  when  too  hot  for  handling,  get  dislocated. 
Let  the  pudding  come  out  of  the  stove  stiff  as  a 
poker.  Let  the  gossipini:^  gabbler  of  next  door 
come  in  and  tell  all  the  disagreeable  things  that 
neighbors  have  V>een  saying.  Let  the  lungs  be 
worn  out  by  staying  indoors  without  fresh  air^ 
and  the  needle  be  threaded  with  nerves  exhausted. 
After  one  week's  household  annoyances,  he 
would  conclude  that  Wall  street  is  heaven  and 
the  clatter  of  the  Stock  Exchange  rich  as  Bee- 
thoven's symphony. 

We  think  Mary  of  Bethany  a  little  to  blame  for 
not  helping  Martha  get  the  dinner.  If  women 
sympathize  with  men  in  the  troubles  of  store 
and  field,  let  the  men  also  sympathize  with  the 
women  in  the  troubles  of  housekeeping.  Many 
a  housewife  has  died  of  her  annoyances.  A  bar 
of  soap  may   become  a  murderous"^  weapon.     The 

153 


154 


A r 01171  d  the  Tea-table. 


poor  cooking  stove  has  sometimes  been  the  slow 
nre  on  which  the  wife  has  been  roasted.  In  the 
day  when  Latimer  and  Eidley  are  honored  before 
the  universe  as  the  martyrs  of  the  tire,  we  do  not 
think  the  Lord  will  forget  the  long  line  of  wives, 
mothers,  daughters  and  sisters  who  have  been  the 
martyrs  of  the  kitchen. 

Accompanying  masculine  criticism  of  woman's 
temper  goes  the  popular  criticism  of  woman's 
dress. 

A  convention  has  recently  been  held  in  Yine- 
land,  attended  by  the  women  who  are  opposed  to 
extravagance  in  dress.  They  propose,  not  only 
by  formal  resolution,  but  by  personal  example,  to 
teach  the  world  lessons  of  economy  by  wearing 
less  adornment  and  dragging  fewer  yards  of  silk. 

We  wish  them  all  success,  although  we  would 
have  more  contidence  in  the  movement  if  so  many 
of  the  delegates  had  not  worn  bloomer  dress.  Moses 
makes  war  upon  that  style  of  apparel  in  Deuter- 
onomy xxii.  5:  ''The  woman  shall  not  wear  that 
•which  pertaineth  unto  man. ' '  Nevertheless  we 
favor  every  etiort  to  stop  the  extravagant  use  of 
dry  goods  and  millinery. 

We  have,  however,  no  sympathy  with  the  im- 
plication that  women  are  worse  than  men  in 
this  respect.  Men  wear  all  they  can  without 
interfering  with  their  locomotion,  but  man  is 
such  an  awkward  creature  he  cannot  find  any 
place  on  his  body  to  hang  a  great  many  fineries. 
He  could  not  get  round  in  Wall  street  with  eight 
or  ten  flounces,  and  a  big-handled  parasol,  and  a 
mountain  of  back  hair.  ^len  wear  less  than 
women,  not  because  they  are  more  moral,  but 
because  they  cannot  stand  it.  As  it  is,  many  of 
our  young  men  are  padded  to  a  superlative  degree, 
and  have  corns  and  bunions  on  every  separate 
toe  from  wearing  shoes  too  tight. 

Neither  have  we  any  sympathy  with   the  im- 


Masculine  ajid  Feminine,  155 

plication  that  the  present  is  worse  than  the  past 
in  matters  of  dress.  Compare  the  fashion  plates 
of  the  seventeenth  century  with  the  fashion 
plates  of  the  nineteenth,  and  you  decide  in  favor 
of  our  day.  The  women  of  Isaiah's  time  beat 
anything  now.  Do  we  have  the  kangaroo  fashion 
Isaiah  speaks  of — the  daughters  who  walked 
with  "stretched  forth  necks?"  Talk  of  hoops! 
Isaiah  speaks  of  women  with  "round  tires  like 
the  moon. ' '  Do  we  have  hot  irons  for  curling 
our  hair?  Isaiah  speaks  of  ' '  wimples  and  crisp- 
ing pins. ' '  Do  we  sometimes  wear  glasses  astride 
our  nose,  not  because  we  are  near-sighted,  but 
f or  beautification?  Isaiah  speaks  of  the  "glasses, 
and  the  earrings,  and  the  nose  jewels. ' '  The 
dress  of  to-day  is  far  more  sensible  than  that 
of  a  hundred  or  a  thousand  years  ago. 

But  the  largest  room  in  the  world  is  room  for 
improvement,  and  we  would  cheer  on  those  who 
would  attempt  reformation  either  in  male  or 
female  attire.  Meanwhile,  we  rejoice  that  so 
many  of  the  pearls,  and  emeralds,  and  amethysts, 
and  diamonds  of  the  world  are  coming  in  the 
possession  of  Christian  women.  Who  knows  but 
that  the  spirit  of  ancient  consecration  may  some 
day  come  upon  them,  and  it  shall  again  be  as  it 
was  in  the  time  of  Moses,  that  for  the  prosperity 
of  the  house  of  the  Lord  the  women  may  bring 
their  bracelets,  and  earrings,  and  tablets  and 
jewels?  The  precious  stones  of  earth  will  never 
have  their  proper  place  till  they  are  set  around 
the  Pearl  of  Great  Price. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 
LITERARY  FELONY. 

We  have  recently  seen  many  elaborate  discus- 
sions as  to  whether  plagiarism  is  virtuous  or 
criminal — in  other  words,  whether  writers  may 
steal.  If  a  minister  can  find  a  sermon  better 
than  any  one  he  can  make,  why  not  preach  it? 
If  an  author  can  find  a  paragraph  for  his  book 
better  than  any  he  can  himself  manufacture,  why 
not  appropriate  it? 

That  sounds  well.  But  why  not  go  further 
and  ask,  if  a  woman  find  a  set  of  furs  better  than 
she  has  in  her  wardrobe,  why  not  take  them?  If 
a  man  find  that  his  neighbor  has  a  cow  full 
Alderney,  while  he  has  in  his  own  yard  only  a 
scrawny  runt,  why  not  drive  home  the  Alderney? 
Theft  is  taking  anything  that  does  not  belong  to 
you,  whether  it  be  sheep,  oxen,  hats,  coats  or 
literary  material. 

Without  attempting  to  point  out  the  line  that 
divides  the  lawful  appropriation  of  another's 
ideas  from  the  appropriation  of  another's  phras- 
eology, we  have  only  to  say  that  a  literary  man 
always  knows  when  he  is  stealing.  Whether 
found  out  or  not,  the  process  is  belittling,  and 
a  man  is  through  it  blasted  for  this  world  and 
damaged  for  the  next  one.  The  ass  in  the  fable 
wanted  to  die  because  he  was  beaten  so  much, 
but  after  death  they  changed  his  hide  into  a 
drum-head,  and  thus  he  was  beaten  more  than 
ever.  So  the  plagiarist  is  so  vile  a  cheat  that 
there  is  not  much  chance  for  him,  living  or 
dead.  A  minister  who  hopes  to  do  good  with 
such  burglary  will  no  more  be  a  successful  am- 

156 


Literary  Felony.  157 

bassador  to  men  than  a  foreign  minister  de- 
spatched by  our  government  to-day  would  succeed 
if  he  presented  himself  at  the  court  of  St.  James 
with  the  credentials  that  he  stole  from  the 
archives  of  those  illustrious  ex-ministers,  James 
Buchanan  or  Benjamin  Franklin. 

What  every  minister  needs  is  a  fresh  message 
that  day  from  the  Lord.  We  would  sell  cheap  all 
our  parchments  of  licensure  to  preach.  God 
gives  his  ministers  a  license  every  Sabbath  and  a 
new  message.  He  sends  none  of  us  out  so  men- 
tally poor  that  we  have  nothing  to  furnish  but  a 
cold  hash  of  other  people's  sermons.  Our  hay- 
stack is  large  enough  for  all  the  sheep  that  come 
round  it,  and  there  is  no  need  of  our  taking  a 
single  forkful  from  any  other  barrack.  By  all 
means  use  all  the  books  you  can  get  at,  but  devour 
them,  chew  them  fine  and  digest  them,  till  they 
become  a  part  of  the  blood  and  bone  of  your  own 
nature.  There  is  no  harm  in  delivering  an  oration 
or  sermon  belonging  to  some  one  else  provided 
you  so  announce  it.  Quotation  marks  are  cheap, 
and  let  us  not  be  afraid  to  use  them.  Do  you 
know  why  "quotation"  marks  are  made  up  of 
four  commas,  two  at  the  head  of  the  paragraph 
adopted  and  two  at  the  close  of  it?  Those  four 
commas  mean  that  you  should  stop  four  times 
before  you  steal  anything. 

If  there  were  no  question  of  morals  involved, 
plagiarism  is  nevertheless  most  perilous.  There 
are  a  great  many  constables  out  for  the  arrest  of 
such  clefrauders.  That  stolen  paragraph  that  you 
think  will  never  be  recognized  has  been  com- 
mitted to  memory  by  that  old  lady  with  green 
goggles  in  the  front  pew.  That  very  same  brill- 
iant passage  you  have  just  pronounced  was  de- 
livered by  the  clerg>'man  who  preached  in  that 
pulpit  the  Sabbath  before :  two  thieves  met  in  one 
hen-roost.     All  we  know  of  Doctor  Havward  of 


158  Aroii7id  the  Tea-table. 

Queen  Elizabeth's  time  is  that  he  purloined  from 
Tacitus.  Be  dishonest  once  in  this  respect, 
and  when  you  do  really  say  something  original 
and  good  the  world  will  cry  out,  ''Yes,  very 
fine!  I  always  did  like  Joseph  Addison!" 

Sermons  are  successful  not  according  to  the 
head  involved  in  them,  but  according  to  the 
heart  implied,  and  no  one  can  feel  aright  while 
preaching  a  literary  dishonesty.  Let  us  be  con- 
tent to  wear  our  own  coat,  though  the  nap  on  it 
is  not  quite  as  well  looking,  to  ride  on  our  own 
horse,  though  he  do  not  gallop  as  gracefully  and 
will  ''break  up"  when  others  are  passing.  There 
is  a  work  for  us  all  to  do,  and  God  gives  us  just 
the  best  tools  to  do  it.  \\Tiat  folly  to  be  hanker- 
ing after  our  neighbor's  chalk  line  and  gimlet! 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
LITERARY  ABSTIXE^XE. 

It  is  as  much  an  art  not  to  read  as  to  read.  With 
what  pains,  and  tiiumps,  and  whacks  at  school 
we  first  learned  the  way  to  put  words  together ! 

We  did  not  mind  so  much  being  whipped  by 
the  schoohnaster  for  not  knowing  how  to  read 
our  lesson,  but  to  have  to  go  out  ourselves  and 
cut  the  hickory  switch  with  Avhich  the  chastise- 
ment was  to  be  inflicted  seemed  to  us  then,  as  it 
does  now,  a  great  injustice. 

Notwithstanding  all  our  hard  work  in  learning 
to  read  we  find  it  quite  as  hard  now  to  learn  how 
not  to  read.  There  are  innumerable  books  and 
newspapers  from  which  one  had  better  abstain. 

There  are  Ijut  very  few  newspapers  which  it  is 
safe  to  read  all  through,  though  we  know  of  one 
that  it  is  best  to  peruse  from  beginning  to  end, 
but  modesty  forbids  us  stating  which  one  that 
is.  In  this  day  readers  need  as  never  before  to 
carry  a  sieve. 

It  requires  some  heroism  to  say  you  have  not 
read  such  and  such  a  book.  Your  friend  gives 
you  a  stare  which  implies  your  literary  infer- 
iority. Do  not,  in  order  to  answer  the  question 
affirmatively,  wade  through  indiscriminate  slush. 

We  have  to  say  that  three-fourths  of  the  novels 
of  the  day  are  a  mental  depletion  to  those  who 
read  them.  The  man  who  makes  wholesale  de- 
nunciation of  fiction  pitches  overboard  ''Pil- 
grim's Progress"  and  the  parables  of  our  Lord. 
But  the  fact  is  that  some  of  the  publishing  houses 
that  once  were  cautious  about  the  moral  tone  of 
their  books  have  become  reckless  about  every- 

159 


l6o  Around  the  Tea-table. 

thing  but  the  number  of  copies  sold.  It  is  aH 
the  same  to  them  whether  the  package  they  send 
out  be  corn  starch,  jujube  paste  or  hellebore. 
They  wrap  up  fifty  copies  and  mark  them  C.  G.  D. 
But  if  the  expressman,  according  to  that 
mark,  should  collect  on  delivery  all  the  curses 
that  shall  come  on  the  head  of  the  publishing 
house  which  printed  them,  he  would  break  down 
his  wagon  and  kill  his  horses  with  the  load.  Let 
parents  and  guardians  be  especially  watchful. 
Have  a  quarantine  at  your  front  door  for  all 
books  and  newspapers.  Let  the  health  doctor  go 
abroad  and  see  whether  there  is  any  sickness 
there  before  you  let  it  come  to  wharfage. 

Whether  young  or  old,  be  cautious  about  what 
you  read  in  the  newspapers.  You  cannot  day 
after  day  go  through  three  columns  of  murder 
trial  without  being  a  worse  man  than  when  you 
began.  While  you  are  trying  to  find  out  whether 
Stokes  was  lying  in  Mait  for  Fisk,  Satan  is  lying 
in  wait  for  you.  Skip  that  half  page  of  divorce 
case.  Keep  out  of  the  mud.  The  Burdell  and 
Sickles  cases,  through  the  unclean  reading  they 
afforded  to  millions  of  people  long  ago,  led  their 
thousands  into  abandoned  lives  and  pitched  them 
off  the  edge  of  a  lost  eternity.  With  so  much 
healthful  literature  of  all  sorts',  there  is  no  excuse 
for  bringing  your  minds  in  contact  with  evil.  K 
there  were  a  famine,  there  might  be  some  reason 
for  eating  garbage,  but  the  land  is  full  of  bread. 
When  we  may,  with  our  families,  sit  around 
the  clean  warm  fire-hearth  of  Christian  knowl- 
edge, why  go  hunting  in  the  ash  barrels  for 
cinders? 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
SHORT  OR  LONG  PASTORATES. 

The  question  is  being  discussed  in  many  jour- 
nals, "How  long  ought  a  minister  to  stay  in  one 
place?' '  Clergymen  and  laymen  and  editors  are 
wagging  tongue  and  pen  on  the  subject — a  most 
practical  question  and  easy  to  answer.  Let  a 
minister  stay  in  a  place  till  he  gets  done — that  is, 
when  he  has  nothing  more  to  say  or  do. 

Some  ministers  are  such  ardent  students  of  the 
Bible  and  of  men,  they  are  after  a  twenty-five 
years'  residence  in  a  parish  so  full  of  things  that 
ought  to  be  said,  that  their  resignation  would  be 
a  calamity.  Others  get  through  in  three  months 
and  ought  to  go ;  but  it  takes  an  earthquake  to 
get  them  away.  They  inust  be  moved  on  by  com- 
mittees, and  pelted  with  resolutions,  stuck  through 
with  the  needles  of  the  ladies'  sewing  society, 
iind  advised  by  neighboring  ministers,  and  hauled 
up  before  presbyteries  and  consociations ;  and 
after  they  have^  killed  the  church  and  killed 
themselves,  the  pastoral  relation  is  dissolved. 

We  knew  of  a  man  who  got  a  unanimous  call. 
He  wore  the  finest  pair  of  gaiters  that  ever  went 
into  that  pulpit ;  and  when  he  took  up  the  Psalm 
book  to  give  out  the  song,  it  was  the  perfection 
of  gracefulness.  His  tongue  was  dipped  in 
*'balm  of  a  thousand  flowers,"  and  it  was  like 
the  roll  of  one  of  Beethoven's  symphonies  to  hear 
him  read  the  hardest  Bible  names,  Jechonias, 
Zerubbabel  and  Tiglath-pileser.  It  was  worth  all 
the  salary  paid  him  to  see  the  way  he  lifted  his 
pocket-handkerchief  to  his  eyelids. 

But  that  brother,  without  knowing  it,  got 
through    in    six  weeks.     He  had  sold  out   his 

i6i 


1 6  2  Around  the  Tea  -  ta  ble. 

entire  stock  of  goods,  and  ought  to  have  shut  up 
shop.  Congregations  enjoy  flowers  and  well- 
folded  pocket-handkerchiefs  for  occasional  des- 
serts, but  do  not  like  them  for  a  regular  meal. 
The  most  urbane  elder  was  sent  to  the  minister 
to  intimate  that  the  Lord  was  probably  calling 
him  to  some  other  field,  but  the  elder  was  baffled 
by  the  graciousness  of  his  pastor,  and  unable  to 
discharge  his  mission,  and  after  he  had  for  an 
hour  hemmed  and  hawed,  backed  out. 

Next,  a  woman  with  a  very  sharp  tongue  was 
sent  to  talk  to  the  minister's  wife.  The  war- 
cloud  thickened,  the  pickets  were  driven  in,  and 
then  a  skirmish,  and  after  a  while  all  the  batteries 
were  opened,  and  each  side  said  that  the  other 
side  lied,  and  the  minister  dropped  his  pocket- 
handkerchief  and  showed  his  claws  as  long  as 
those  of  Nebuchadnezzar  after  he  had  been  three 
years  eating  grass  like  an  9X.     We  admire  long 

Eastorates  when  it  is  agreeable  to  both  parties, 
ut  we  know  ministers  who  boast  they  have  been 
thirty  years  in  one  place,  though  all  the  world 
knows  they  have  been  there  twenty-nine  years 
too  long.  Their  congregations  are  patiently  wait- 
ing their  removal  to  a  higher  latitude.  Mean- 
while, those  churches  are  like  a  man  with  chronic 
rheumatism,  very  quiet — not  because  they  admire 
rheumatism,  but  because  there  is  no  use"^  kicking 
with  a  swollen  foot,  since  it  would  hurt  them 
more  than  the  object  assaulted. 

If  a  pastorate  can  be  maintained  only  through 
conflict  or  ecclesiastical  tyranny,  it  might  better 
be  abandoned.  There  are  many  ministers  who 
go  away  from  their  settlements  before  they  ought, 
but  we  think  there  are  quite  as  many  who  do 
not  go  soon  enough.  A  husband  might  just  as 
well  try  to  keep  his  wife  by  choking  her  to  death 
with  a  marriage  ring  as  a  minister  to  try  to  keep 
a  church's  love  by  ecclesiastical  violence.  Study 
the  best  time  to  quit. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

AN  EDITOR'S  CHIP-BASKET. 

On  our  way  out  the  newspaper  rooms  we 
stumbled  over  the  basket  in  which  is  deposited 
the  literary  material  we  cannot  use.  The  basket 
upset  and  surprised  us  with  its  contents.  On 
the  top  were  some  things  that  looked  like  fifteen 
or  twenty  poems.  People  outside  have  no  idea 
of  the  amount  of  rhyme  that  comes  to  a  printing 
office.  The  fact  is  that  at  some  period  m  every 
one's  life  he  writes  "poetry."  His  existence 
depends  upon  it.  We  wrote  ten  or  fifteen  verses 
ourselves  once.  Had  we  not  written  them  just 
then  and  there,  we  might  not  be  here.  They 
were  in  long  metre,  and  "Old  Hundred"  would 
have  fitted  them  grandly. 

Many  people  are  seized  with  the  poetic  spasm 
when  they  are  sick,  and  their  lines  are  apt  to 
begin  with. 

"O  mortality!  how  frail  art  thou  I" 
Others  on  Sabbath  afternoons  write  Sabbath- 
school  hymns,  adding  to  the  batch  of  infinite 
nonsense  that  the  children  are  compelled  to  swal- 
low. For  others  a  beautiful  curl  is  a  corkscrew 
pulling  out  canto  after  canto.  Xine-tenths  of  the 
rhyme  that  comes  to  a  printing  office  cannot  be 
used.  You  hear  a  rough  tear  of  paper,  and  you 
look  around  to  see  the  managing  editor  adding  to 
the  responsibilities  of  his  chip-basket.  What  a 
way  that  is  to  treat  incipient  Tennysons  and 
Longf  ellows ! 

Next  to  the  poetic  efi*usions  tumble  out  treatises 
on  "constitutional  law"  heavy  enough  to  break 

163 


164  Around  the  Tea-table. 

the  basket.  We  have  noticed  that  after  a  man 
has  got  so  dull  he  can  get  no  one  willing  to  hear 
him  he  takes  to  profound  exjDosition.  Out  from 
the  same  chip-basket  rolls  a  great  pile  of  announce- 
ments that  people  want  put  among  the  editorials, 
so  as  to  save  the  expense  of  the  advertising 
column.  They  tell  us  the  article  they  wish 
recommended 'will  have  a  highly  beneficial  effect 
upon  the  Church  and  world.  It  is  a  religious 
churn,  or  a  moral  horse-rake,  or  a  consecrated  fly 
trap.  They  almost  get  us  crying  over  their  new 
kind  of  grindstone,  and  we  put  the  letter  down 
on  the  table  while  we  get  out  our  pocket-hand- 
kerchief, when  our  assistant  takes  hold  the  docu- 
ment and  gives  it  a  ruthless  rip,  and  pitches  it 
into  the  chip-basket. 

Next  in  the  pile  of  torn  and  upset  things  is  the 
speech  of  some  one  on  the  momentous  occasion 
of  the  presentation  of  a  gold-headed  cane,  or 
silver  pitcher,  or  brass  kettle  for  making  pre- 
serves. It  was  "unexpected,"  a  "surprise"  and 
"undeserved,"  and  would  "long  be  cherished." 
* '  Great  applause,  and  not  a  dry  eye  in  the  house, ' ' 
etc.,  etc.  But  there  is  not  much  room  in  a  paper 
for  speeches.     In  this  country  everv'body  speaks. 

An  American  is  in  his  normal  condition  when 
he  is  making  a  speech.  He  is  born  with  * '  fellow- 
citizens"  in  his  mouth,  and  closes  his  earthly 
life  by  saying,  "One  word  more,  and  I  have 
done. ''  Speeches  being  so  common,  newspaper 
readers  do  not  want  a  large  supply,  and  so  many 
of  these  utterances,  intended  to  be  immortal, 
drop  into  oblivion  through  that  inexhaustible 
reservoir,  the  editorial  chip-basket. 

But  there  is  a  hovering  of  pathos  over  this 
wreck  of  matter.  Some  of  these  wasted  things 
were  written  for  bread  by  intelligent  wives  with 
drunken  husbands  trying  to  support  their  families 
with  the  pen.     Over  that  mutilated  maimscript 


A71  Editor's  Chip-basket.  165 

some  weary  man  toiled  until  daybreak.  How  we 
wish  we  could  have  printed  what  they  wrote! 
Alas  for  the  necessity  that  disappoints  the  literary 
struggle  of  so  many  women  and  men,  when  it  is 
ten  dollars  for  thai  article  or  children  gone  sup- 
perless  to  bed ! 

Let  no  one  enter  the  field  of  literature  for  the 
purpose  of  ''making  a  living"  unless  as  a  very 
last  resort.  There  are  thousands  of  persons  to- 
day starving  to  death  with  a  steel  pen  in  their 
hand.  The  story  of  Grub  street  and  poets  living 
on  thin  soup  is  being  repeated  all  over  this  land, 
although  the  modern  cases  are  not  so  conspicuous. 
Poverty  is  no  more  agreeable  because  classical 
and  set  in  hexameters.  The  hungry  author  can- 
not breakfast  on  "odes  to  summer."  On  this 
cold  day  how  many  of  the  literati  are  shivering! 
Martyrs  have  perished  in  the  fire,  but  more  per- 
sons have  perished  for  lack  of  fire.  Let  no  editor 
through  hypercriticism  of  contributed  articles 
add  to  this  educated  suffering. 

What  is  that  we  hear  in  the  next  room?  It  is 
the  roar  of  a  big  fire  as  it  consumes  unavailable 
literary  material — epics,  sonnets,  homilies,  trac- 
tates, compilations,  circulars,  dissertations.  Some 
of  them  were  obscure,  and  make  a  great  deal  of 
smoke.  Some  of  them  were  merry,  and  crackle. 
All  of  them  have  ended  their  mission  and  gone 
down,  ashes  to  ashes  and  dust  to  dust. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE  MANHOOD  OF  SERVICE. 

At  the  Crawford  House,  White  Mountains,  we 
noticed,  this  summer,  unusual  intelligence  and 
courtesy  on  the  part  of  those  who  served  the 
tables.  We  found  out  that  many  of  them  were 
students  from  the  colleges  and  seminaries — young 
men  and  women  who  had  taken  this  mode  of 
replenishing  their  purses  and  getting  the  benefit 
of  mountain  air.  We  felt  like  applauding  them. 
We  have  admiration  for  those  who  can  be  inde- 
pendent of  the  oppressive  conventionalities  of 
society.  May  not  all  of  us  practically  adopt  the 
Christian  theory  that  any  work  is  honorable  that 
is  useful?  The  slaves  of  an  ignominious  pride, 
how  many  kill  themselves  earning  a  living!  We 
have  tens  of  thousands  of  women  in  our  cities, 
sitting  in  cold  rooms,  stabbing  their  life  out  with 
their  needles,  coughing  their  lungs  into  tubercles 
and  suffering  the  horroi-s  of  the  social  inquisition, 
for  whom  there  waits  plenty  of  healthy,  happy 
homes  in  the  country,  if  they  could  only,  like 
these  sons  and  daughters  of  Dartmouth  and  North- 
ampton, consent  to  serve.  We  wish  some  one 
would  explain  to  us  how  a  sewing  machine  is 
any  more  respectable  than  a  churn,  or  a  yard 
stick  is  better  than  a  pitchfork.  We  want  a  new 
Declaration  of  Independence,  signed  by  all  the 
laboring  classes.  There  is  plenty  of  work  for  all 
kinds  of  people,  if  they  were  not  too  proud  to 
do  it.  Though  the  country  is  covered  with  peo- 
ple who  can  find  nothing  to  do,  we  would  be 
willing  to  open  a  bureau  to-morrow,  warranting 
to  give  to  all  the  unemployed  of  the  land  occu- 
pation, if  they  would  only  consent  to  do  what 

i66 


The  Manhood  of  Service.  1 67 

might  be  assigned  them.  We  believe  anything  is 
more  honorable  than  idleness. 

During  very  hard  times  two  Italian  artists  called 
at  our  country  home,  asking  if  we  did  not  want 
some  sketching  done,  and  they  unrolled  some 
elegant  pictures,  showing  their  fine  capacity.  We 
told  them  we  had  no  desire  for  sketches,  but  we 
had  a  cistern  to  clean,  and  would  pay  them  well 
for  doing  it.  Off  went  their  coats,  and  in  a  few 
hours  the  work  was  done  and  their  wages  awarded. 
How  much  more  honorable  for  them  to  do  what 
they  could  get  to  do  rather  than  to  wait  for  more 
adapted  employment! 

Why  did  not  the  girls  of  Northampton  spend 
their  summers  embroidering  slippers  or  hemming 
handkerchiefs,  and  thus  keep  at  work  unobserved 
and  more  popular?  Because  they  were  not  fools. 
They  said:  "Let  us  go  up  and  see  Mount  Adams, 
and  the  Profile,  and  Mount  Washington.  We 
shall  have  to  work  only  five  hours  a  day,  and  all 
the  time  we  will  be  gathering  health  and  inspir- 
ation. ' '  Young  men,  those  are  the  girls  to  seek 
when  you  want  a  wife,  rather  than  the  wheezing 
victims  of  ruinous  work  chosen  because  it  is  more 
popular.  About  the  last  thing  we  ^\'ould  want  to 
marry  is  a  medicine-chest.  Why  did  not  the 
students  of  Dartmouth,  during  their  vacation, 
teach  school?  First,  because  teaching  is  a  science, 
and  they  did  not  want  to  do  three  months  of 
damage  to  the  children  of  the  common  school. 
Secondly,  because  they  wanted  freedom  from 
books  as  man  makes  them,  and  opportunity  to 
open  the  ponderous  tome  of  boulder  and  strata 
as  God  printed  them.  Churches  and  scientific 
institutions,  these  will  be  the  men  to  call — brawny 
and  independent,  rather  than  the  bilious,  short- 
breathed,  nerveless  graduates  who,  too  proud  to 
take  healthful  recreation,  tumble,  at  commence- 
ment day,  into  the  lap  of  society  so  many  Greek 
iroots. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
BALKY  PEOPLE. 

Passing  along  a  country  road  quite  recently,  we 
found  a  man,  a  horse  and  wagon  in  trouble.  The 
vehicle  was  slight  and  the  road  was  good,  but  the 
horse  refused  to  draw,  and  his  driver  was  in  a 
bad  predicament.  He  had  already  destroyed  his 
whip  in  applying  inducements  to  progress  in 
travel.  He  had  pulled  the  horse's  ears  with  a 
sharp  string.  He  had  backed  him  into  the  ditch. 
He  had  built  a  tire  of  straw  underneath  him, 
the  only  result  a  smashed  dash-board.  The  chief 
effect  of  the  violences  and  cruelties  applied  was 
to  increase  the  divergency  of  feeling  between  the 
brute  and  his  master.  We  said  to  the  besweated 
and  outraged  actor  in  the  scene  that  the  best  thing 
for  him  to  do  was  to  let  his  horse  stand  for  a 
while  unwhipped  and  uncoaxed,  setting  some  one 
to  watch  him  while  he,  the  driver,  went  away  to 
cool  off.  We  learned  that  the  plan  worked  ad- 
mirably ;  that  the  cold  air,  and  the  appetite  for 
oats,  and  the  solitude  of  the  road,  favorable  for 
contemplation,  had  made  the  horse  move  for 
adjournment  to  some  other  place  and  time;  and 
when  the  driver  came  up,  he  had  but  to  take  up 
the  reins,  and  the  beast,  erst  so  obstinate,  dashed 
down  the  road  at  a  perilous  speed. 

There  is  not  as  much  difference  between  horses 
and  men  as  you  might  suppose.  The  road  between 
mind  and  "^equine  instinct  is  short  and  soon 
traveled.  The  horse  is  sometimes  superior  to  his 
rider.  If  anything  is  good  and  admirable  in  pro- 
Ix)rtion  as  it  answers  the  end  of  its  being,  then 
the   horse  that   bends   into    its  traces  before   a 

i68 


Balky  People,  169 

Fourth  avenue  car  is  better  than  its  blaspheming 
driver.  He  who  cannot  manage  a  horse  cannot 
manage  a  man. 

We  know  of  pastors  who  have  balky  parish- 
ioners. When  any  important  move  is  to  take 
place,  and  all  the  other  horses  of  the  team  are 
willing  to  draw,  they  lay  themselves  back  in  the 
harness. 

First  the  pastor  pats  the  obstreperous  elder  or 
deacon  on  the  neck  and  tells  him  how  much  he 
thinks  of  him.  This  only  makes  him  shake  his 
mane  and  grind  his  bit.  He  will  die  first  before 
he  consents  to  such  a  movement.  Next,  he  is 
pulled  by  the  ear,  with  a  good  many  sharp  in- 
sinuations as  to  his  motives  for  holding  back. 
Fires  of  indignation  are  built  under  him  for  the 
purpose  of  consuming  his  balkiness.  He  is 
whipped  with  the  scourge  of  public  opinion,  but 
this  only  makes  him  kick  fiercely  and  lie 
harder  in  the  breeching- straps.  He  is  backed 
down  into  the  ditch  of  scorn  and  contempt,  but 
still  is  not  willing  to  draw  an  ounce.  O  foolish 
minister,  trying  in  that  way  to  manage  a  balky 
parishioner !  Let  him  alone.  Go  on  and  leave 
him  there.  Pay  less  attention  to  the  horse  that 
balks,  and  give  more  oats  to  those  that  pull. 
Leave  him  out  in  the  cold.  Some  day  you  will 
come  back  and  find  him  glad  to  start.  At  your 
first  advance  he  will  arch  his  neck,  paw  his  hoof, 
bend  into  the  bit,  stifl'en  the  traces  and  dash  on. 
We  have  the  same  prescription  for  balky  horses 
and  men :  for  a  little  while  let  them  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
ANONYMOUS  LETTERS. 

In  boyhood  days  we  were  impressed  with  the 
fertility  of  a  certain  author  whose  name  so  often 
ippeared  in  the  spelling  books  and  readers,  styled 
A.non.  He  seemed  to  write  more  than  Isaac 
(Vatts,  or  Shakespeare,  or  Blair.  In  the  index, 
and  scattered  throughout  all  our  books,  was  the 
name  of  Anon.  He  appeared  in  all  styles  of 
poetry  and  prose  and  dialogue.  We  wondered 
where  he  lived,  what  his  age  was,  and  how  he 
looked.  It  was  not  until  quite  late  in  boyhood 
that  we  learned  that  Anon  was  an  abbreviation 
for  anonymous,  and  that  he  was  sometimes  the 
best  saint  and  at  other  times  the  most  extraor- 
dinary villain. 

After  centuries  of  correspondence  old  Anony- 
mous is  as  fertile  of  thought  and  brain  and 
stratagem  as  ever,  and  will  probably  keep  on 
writing  till  the  last  fire  burns  up  his  pen  and 
cracks  to  pieces  his  ink  bottle.  AnonjTnous  letters 
sometimes  have  a  mission  of  kindness  and  grati- 
tude and  good  cheer.  Genuine  modesty  may 
sometimes  hide  the  name  of  an  epistolary  author 
or  authoress.  It  may  be  a  ' '  God  bless  you' '  from 
some  one  who  thinks  herself  hardly  in  a  position 
to  address  you.  It  may  be  the  discovery  of  a 
plot  for  your  damage,  in  which  the  revelator  does 
not  care  to  take  the  responsibility  of  a  witness. 
It  may  be  any  one  of  a  thousand  things  that  mean 
frankness  and  delicacy  and  honor  and  Christian 
principle.  We  have  received  anonymous  letters 
which  we  have  put  away  among  our  most  sacred 
archives. 

170 


Anonymous  Letters.  171 

But  we  suppose  every  one  chiefly  associates  the 
idea  of  anonymous  communications  with  every- 
thing cowardly  and  base.  There  are  in  all  neigh- 
borhoods perfidious,  sneaking,  dastardly,  tilthy, 
calumnious,  vermin-infested  wretches,  spewed  up 
from  perdition,  whose  joy  it  is  to  write  letters 
with  tictitious  signatures.  Sometimes  they  take 
the  shape  of  a  valentine,  the  fourteenth  of  Feb- 
ruary being  a  great  outlet  for  this  obscene  spawn. 
If  yuur  nose  be  long,  or  your  limbs  slender,  or 
your  waist  thick  around,  they  will  be  pictorially 
presented.  Sometimes  they  take  the  form  of  a 
delicate  threat  that  if  you  do  not  thus  or  so  there 
will  be  a  funeral  at  your  house,  yourself  the  chief 
object  of  interest.  Sometimes  they  will  be  denun- 
ciatory of  your  friends.  Once  being  called  to 
preside  at  a  meeting  for  the  relief  of  the  sewing 
women  of  Philadelphia,  and  having  been  called 
in  the  opening  speech  to  say  something  about 
oppressive  contractors,  we  received  some  twenty 
anonymous  letters,  the  purport  of  which  was  that 
it  would  be  unsafe  for  us  to  go  out  of  doors  after 
dark.  Three  months  after  moving  to  Brooklyn 
we  preached  a  sermon  reviewing  one  of  the  sins 
of  the  city,  and  anonymous  letters  came  saying 
that  we  would  not  last  six  months  in  the  city 
of  churches. 

Sometimes  the  anonjTuous  crime  takes  the  form 
of  a  newspaper  article ;  and  if  the  matter  be  pur- 
sued, the  editor-in-chief  puts  it  off  on  the  man- 
aging editor,  and  the  managing  editor  upon  the 
book  critic,  and  the  book  critic  upon  the  reporter. 

Whether  Adam  or  Eve  or  the  serpent  was  the 
most  to  be  blamed  for  the  disappearance  of  the 
fair  apple  of  reputation  is  uncertain ;  the  only 
thing  you  can  be  sure  of  is  that  the  apple  is  gone. 
Xo  honest  man  will  ever  write  a  thing  for  a  news- 
pai)er,  in  editorial  or  any  other  column,  that  he 
would   be  ashamed   to   sign  with  the    Christian 


172  Around  the  Tea-table. 

name  that  his  mother  had  him  baptized  with. 
They  who  go  skulking  about  under  the  editorial 
"we,"  unwilling  to  acknowledge  their  identity, 
are  more  tit  for  Delaware  whipping-posts  than  the 
position  of  public  educators.  It  is  high  time 
that  such  hounds  were  muzzled. 

Let  every  young  man  know  that  when  he  is 
tempted  to  pen  anything  which  requires  him  to 
disguise  his  handwriting  he  is  in  fearful  danger. 
You  despoil  your  own  nature  by  such  procedure 
more  than  you  can  damage  any  one  else.  Bowie- 
knife  and  dagger  are  more  honorable  than  an 
anonymous  pen  sharpened  for  defamation  of 
character.  Better  try  putting  strychnine  in  the 
flour  barrel.  Better  mix  ratsbane  in  the  jelly 
cake.  That  behavior  would  be  more  elegant  and 
Christian. 

After  much  observation  we  have  fixed  upon  this 
plan :  If  any  one  writes  us  in  defamation  of 
another,  we  adopt  the  opposite  theory.  If  ihe 
letter  says  that  the  assaulted  one  lies,  we  take  it 
as  eulogistic  of  his  veracity ;  or  that  he  is  un- 
chaste, we  set  him  down  as  pure;  or  fraudulent, 
we  are  seized  with  a  desire  to  make  him  our 
executor.  We  do  so  on  logical  and  unmistakable 
grounds.  A  defamatory  letter  is  from  the  devil 
or  his  satellites.  The  devil  hates  only  the  good. 
The  devil  hates  Mr.  A ;  ergo,  Mr.  A  is  good. 

Much  of  the  work  of  the  day  of  judgment  will 
be  with  the  authors  of  anonymous  letters.  The 
majority  of  other  crimes  against  society  were 
found  out,  but  these  creatures  so  disguised  their 
handwriting  in  the  main  text  of  the  letter,  or  so 
willfully  misspelled  the  direction  on  the  envelope, 
and  put  it  in  such  a  distant  post-ofhce,  and 
looked  so  innocent  when  you  met  them,  that  it 
shall  be  for  the  most  part  a  dead  secret  till  the 
books  are  opened ;  and  when  that  is  done,  we  do 
not  think  these  abandoned  souls  will  wait  to  have 


Anonymous  Letters.  173 

their  condemnation  read,  but,  ashamed  to  meet 
the  announcement,  will  leap  pell-mell  into  the 
pit,  crying,  "We  wrote  them." 

If,  since  the  world  stood,  there  have  been  com- 
posed and  sent  off  by  mail  or  private  postmen 
1,600,378  anonymous  letters  derogatory  of  char- 
acter, then  1,600,378  were  vicious  and  damnable. 
If  you  are  compelled  to  choose  between  writing  a 
letter  with  false  signature  vitriolic  of  any  man's 
integrity  or  any  woman's  honor  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  writing  a  letter  with  a  red-hot  nail  dipped 
in  adder's  poison  on  a  sheet  woven  of  leper 
scales,  choose  the  latter.  It  were  healthier, 
nobler,  and  could  better  endure  the  test  of  man's 
review  and  God's  scrutiny. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
BRAWN  OR  BRAIN. 

Governor  Wiseman  (our  oracular  friend  wlio 
talked  in  the  style  of  an  oration)  was  with  us 
this  evening  at  the  tea-table,  and  we  were  men- 
tioning the  fact  that  about  thirty  colleges  last 
summer  in  the  United  States  contested  for  the 
championship  in  boat-racing.  About  two  hun- 
dred thousand  young  ladies  could  not  sleep  nights, 
so  anxious  were  they  to  know  whether  Yale  or 
Williams  would  be  the  winner.  The  newspapers 
gave  three  and  four  columns  to  the  particulars, 
the  telegraph  wires  thrilled  the  victory  to  all 
parts  of  the  land.  Some  of  the  religious  papers 
condemned  the  whole  affair,  enlarging  upon  the 
strained  wrists,  broken  blood-vessels  and  barbaric 
animalism  of  men  who  ought  to  have  been  row- 
ing their  race  with  the  Binomial  Theorem  for 
one  oar  and  Kames'  Elements  of  Criticism  for 
the  other. 

For  the  most  part,  we  sympathized  with  the 
boys,  and  confess  that  at  our  hotel  we  kept  care- 
ful watch  of  the  bulletin  to  see  whose  boat  came 
in  ahead.  We  are  disposed  to  applaud  anything 
that  will  give  our  young  men  muscular  develop- 
ment. Students  have  such  a  tendency  to  lounge, 
and  mope,  and  chew,  and  eat  almond-nuts  at 
midnight,  and  read  novels  after  they  go  to  bed, 
the  candlestick  set  up  on  Webster's  dictionary  or 
the  Bible,  that  we  prize  anything  that  makes 
them  cautious  about  their  health,  as  they  must 
be  if  they  would  enter  the  list  of  contestants. 
How  many  of  our  country  boys  enter  the  fresh- 
man class  of  college  in  robust  health,  which  lasts 

174 


Braw7i  or  Brain.  175 

them  about  a  twelvemonth  ;  then  in  the  sopho- 
more they  lose  their  liver;  in  the  junior  they 
lose  their  stomach ;  in  the  senior  they  lose  thefr 
back  bone ;  graduating  skeletons,  more  fit  for  an 
anatomical  museum  than  the  bar  or  pulpit. 

"Midnight  oil,"  so  much  eulogized,  is  the 
poorest  kind  of  kerosene.  Where  hard  study  kills 
one  student,  bad  habits  kill  a  hundred.  Kirk 
White,  while  at  Cambridge,  wrote  beautiful 
h\Tiins;  but  if  he  had  gone  to  bed  at  ten  o'clock 
that  night  instead  of  three  o'clock  the  next  morn- 
ing, he  would  have  been  of  more  service  to  the 
world  and  a  healthier  example  to  all  collegians. 
Much  of  the  learning  of  the  day  is  morbid,  and 
much  of  the  religion  bilious.  VVe  want,  first  of 
all,  a  clean  heart,  and  next  a  strong  stomach. 
Falling  from  grace  is  often  chargeable  to  derange-  ; 
ment  of  gastric  juices.  Oar  and  bat  may  become 
salutary  weapons. 

But,  after  all,  there  was  something  wrong  about 
those  summer  boat-races.  A  student  with  a  stout 
arm,  and  great  girth,  and  full  chest,  and  nothing 
else,  is  not  at  all  admirable.  Mind  and  body 
need  to  be  driven  tandem,  the  body  for  the  wheel 
horse  and  the  intellect  the  leader.  We  want 
what  is  now  proposed  in  some  directions — a  grand 
collegiate  literary  race.  Let  the  mental  contest 
be  on  the  same  week  with  the  muscular.  Let 
Yale  and  Harvard  and  Williams  and  Princeton 
and  Dartmouth  see  w^ho  has  the  champion  among 
scholars.  Let  there  be  a  Waterloo  in  belles- 
lettres  and  rhetoric  and  mathematics  and  philoso- 
phy. Let  us  see  whether  the  students  of  Doctors 
McCosh,  or  Porter,  or  Campbell,  or  Smith  are 
most  worthy  to  wear  the  l3elt.  About  twelve 
o'clock  at  noon  let  the  literary  flotilla  start  prow 
and  prow,  oar-lock  and  oar-lock.  Let  Helicon 
empty  its  waters  to  swell  the  river  of  knowledge 
on  which  they  row.     Eight  foot  on  right  rib  of 


176  Around  the  Tea-table. 

the  boat,  and  left  foot  on  the  left  rib — bend  into 
it,  my  hearties,  bend! — and  our  craft  come  out 
four  lengths  ahead. 

Give  the  brain  a  chance  as  well  as  the  ann.  Do 
not  let  the  animal  eat  up  the  soul.  Let  the  body- 
be  the  well -fashioned  hulk,  and  the  mind  the 
white  sails,  all  hoisted,  everything,  from  flying 
jib  to  spanker,  bearing  on  toward  the  harbor  of 
glorious  achievement.  When  that  boat  starts,  we 
want  to  be  on  the  bank  to  cheer,  and  after  sun- 
down help  fill  the  air  with  sky-rockets. 

"By  the  way,"  I  said,  "Governor  Wiseman, 
do  you  not  think  that  we  need  more  out-door 
exercise,  and  that  contact  with  the  natural  world 
would  have  a  cheering  tendency?  Governor,  do 
you  ever  have  the  blues?" 

The  governor,  putting  his  knife  across  the  plate 
and  throwing  his  spectacles  up  on  his  forehead, 
replied : 

Almost  every  nature,  however  sprightly,  some- 
times will  drop  into  a  minor  key,  or  a  subdued 
mood  that  in  common  parlance  is  recognized  as 
* '  the  blues. ' '  There  may  be  no  adverse  causes  at 
work,  but  somehow  the  bells  of  the  soul  stop  ring- 
ing, and  you  feel  like  sitting  quiet,  and  you  strike 
ofi"  fifty  per  cent  from  all  your  worldly  and 
spiritual  prospects.  The  immediate  cause  may 
be  a  northeast  wind,  or  a  balky  liver,  or  an  en- 
larged spleen,  or  pickled  oysters  at  twelve  o'clock 
the  night  before. 

In  such  depressed  state  no  one  can  afi'ord  to  sit 
for  an  hour.  First  of  all  let  him  get  up  and  go 
out  of  doors.  Fresh  air,  and  the  faces  of  cheer- 
ful men,  and  pleasant  women,  and  frolicsome 
children,  will  in  fifteen  minutes  kill  moping. 
The  first  moment  your  friend  strikes  the  key- 
board of  your  soul  it  will  ring  music.  A  hen 
might  as  well  try  on  populous  Broadway  to  hatch 
out  a  feathery  group  as  for  a  man  to  successfully 


Brawn  or  Brain.  177 

brood  over  his  ills  in  lively  society.  Do  not  go 
for  relief  among  those  who  feel  as  badly  as  you 
do.  Let  not  toothache,  and  rheumatism,  and 
hypochondria  go  to  see  ^toothache,  rheumatism 
and  hypochondria.  On  one  block  in  Brooklyn 
live  a  doctor,  an  undertaker  and  a  clergj-man. 
That  is  not  the  row  for  a  nervous  man  to  walk  on, 
lest  he  soon  need  all  three.  Throw  back  all  the 
.shutters  of  your  soul  and  let  the  sunlight  of 
genial  faces  shine  in. 

Besides  that,  why  sit  ye  here  with  the  blues, 
ye  favored  sons  and  daughters  of  men?  Shone 
upon  by  such  stars,  and  breathed  on  by  such  air, 
and  sung  to  by  so  many  pleasant  sounds,  you 
ought  not  to  be  seen  moping.  Especially  if  light 
from  the  better  world  strikes  its  aurora  through 
your  night  sky,  ought  you  be  cheerful.  You  can 
afford  to  have  a  rough  luncheon  by  the  way  if  it 
is  soon  to  end  amid  the  banqueters  in  white. 
Sailing  toward  such  a  blessed  port,  do  not  have 
your  flag  at  half  mast.  Leave  to  those  who  take 
too  much  wine  "the  gloomy  raven  tapping  at  the 
chamber  door,  on  the  night's  Plutonian  shore," 
and  give  us  the  robin  red-breast  and  the  chaffinch. 
Let  some  one  with  a  strong  voice  give  out  the 
long-metre  doxology,  and  the  whole  world 
^'Praise  God,  from  whom  all  blessings  flow." 

"But  do  you  not  suppose.  Governor  Wiseman, 
that  every  man  has  his  irritated  days?" 

Yes,  yes,  responded  the  governor.  There  are 
times  when  everything  seems  to  go  wrong.  From 
seven  o'clock  a.  m.  till  ten  p.  m.  affairs  are  in  a 
twist.  You  rise  in  the  morning,  and  the  room  is 
cold,  and  a  button  is  off,  and  the  breakfast  is 
tough,  and  the  stove  smokes,  and  the  pipes  burst, 
and  you  start  down  the  street  nettled  from  head 
to  foot.  All  day  long  things  are  adverse.  Insin- 
uations, petty  losses,  meanness  on  the  part  of 
customers.     The  ink  bottle  upsets  and  spoils  the 


1 78  Around  the  Tea-table. 

carpet.  Some  one  gives  a  wrong  turn  to  the 
damper,  and  the  gas  escapes.  An  agent  comes  in 
determined  to  insure  your  life,  when  it  is  already 
insured  for  more  than  it  is  worth,  and  you  are 
afraid  some  one  will  knock  you  on  the  head  to 
get  the  price  of  your  policy ;  but  he  sticks  to  you, 
showing  you  pictures  of  old  Time  and  the  hour- 
glass, and  Death's  scythe  and  a  skeleton,  making 
it  quite  certain  that  you  will  die  before  your 
time  unless  you  take  out  papers  in  his  company. 
Besides  this,  you  have  a  cold  in  your  head,  and 
a  grain  of  dirt  in  your  eye,  and  you  are  a  walk- 
ing uneasiness.  The  day  is  out  of  joint,  and  no 
surgeon  can  set  it. 

The  probability  is  that  if  you  would  look  at 
the  weather-vane  you  would  find  that  the  Mind  is 
northeast,  and  you  might  remember  that  yod  have 
lost  much  sleep  lately.  It  might  happen  to  be 
that  you  are  out  of  joint  instead  of  the  day.  Be 
careful  and  not  write  many  letters  while  you  are 
in  that  irritated  mood.  You  will  pen  some 
things  that  you  will  be  sorry  for  afterward. 

Let  us  remember  that  these  spiked  nettles  of 
life  are  part  of  our  discipline.  Life  would  get 
nauseating  if  it  were  all  honey.  That  table  would 
be  poorly  set  that  had  on  it  nothing  but  treacle. 
We  need  a  little  vinegar,  mustard,  pepper  and 
horse-radish  that  brings  the  tears  even  when  we 
do  not  feel  pathetic.  If  this  world  were  all 
smoothness,  we  would  never  be  ready  for  emigra- 
tion to  a  higher  and  better.  Blustering  March 
and  weeping  April  prepare  us  for  shining  May. 
This  world  is  a  poor  hitching  post.  Instead  of 
tying  fast  on  the  cold  mountains,  we  had  better 
whip  up  and  hasten  on  toward  the  warm  inn 
where  our  good  friends  are  looking  out  of  the 
window,  watching  to  see  us  come  up. 

Interrupting  the  governor  at  this  point,  we 
asked  him  if  he  did  not  think  that  rowing,  ball 


Braw?!  or  Brain.  179 

playing  and  other  athletic  exercises  might  be 
made  an  antidote  to  the  morbid  religion  that  is 
sometimes  manifest.     The  governor  replied : 

No  doubt  much  of  the  Christian  character  of 
the  day  lacks  in  swarthiness  and  power.  It  is 
gentle  enough,  and  active  enough,  and  well  mean- 
ing enough,  but  is  wanting  in  moral  muscle.  It 
can  sweetly  sing  at  a  prayer  meeting,  and  smile 
graciously  when  it  is  the  right  time  to  smile,  and 
makes  an  excellent  nurse  to  pour  out  with  steady 
hand  a  few  drops  of  peppermint  for  a  child  that 
feels  disturbances  under  the  waistband,  but  has 
no  qualification  for  the  robust  Christian  w^ork  that 
is  demanded. 

One  reason  for  this  is  the  inefifable  softness  of 
much  of  what  is  called  Christian  literature.  The 
attempt  is  to  bring  us  up  on  tracts  made  up  of 
thin  exhortations  and  goodish  maxims.  A  nerve- 
less treatise  on  commerce  or  science  in  that  style 
would  be  crumpled  up  by  the  first  merchant  and 
thrown  into  his  waste-basket.  Religious  twaddle 
is  of  no  more  use  than  worldly  twaddle.  If  a 
man  has  nothing  to  say,  he  had  better  keep  his 
pen  wiped  and  his  tongue  still.  There  needs  tin 
infusion  of  strong  Anglo-Saxon  into  religious 
literature,  and  a  brawnier  manliness  and  more 
impatience  with  insipidity,  though  it  be  prayer- 
ful and  sanctimonious.  He  who  stands  with 
irksome  repetitions  asking  people  to  "Come  to 
Jesus,"  while  he  gives  no  strong  common-sense 
reason  why  they  should  come,  drives  back  the 
souls  of  men.  If,  with  all  the  thrilling  realities 
of  eternity  at  hand,  a  man  has  nothing  to  write 
which  can  gather  up  and  master  tlie  thoughts  and 
feelings  of  men,  his  writing  and  speaking  are  a 
slander  on  the  religion  which  he  wishes  to 
eulogize. 

Morbidity  in  religion  might  be  partially  cured 
by  more  out-door  exercise.     There  are  some  duties 


i8o  Around  the  Tea-table. 

we  can  perform  better  on  our  feet  than  on  our 
knees.  If  we  carry  the  grace  of  God  with  us 
down  into  every-day  practical  Christian  work,  we 
will  get  more  spiritual  strength  in  five  minutes 
than  by  ten  hours  of  kneeling.  If  Daniel  had 
not  served  God  save  when  three  times  a  day  he 
worshiped  toward  the  temple,  the  lions  would 
have  surely  eaten  him  up.  The  school  of  Christ 
is  as  much  out-of-doors  as  in-doors.  Hard,  rough 
work  for  God  will  develop  an  athletic  soul. 
Religion  will  not  conquer  either  the  admiration 
or  the  afi'ections  of  men  by  e]ffeminacy,  bui  by 
strength.  Because  the  heart  is  soft  is  no  reason 
why  the  head  should  be  soft.  The  spirit  of 
genuine  religion  is  a  spirit  of  great  power.  When 
Christ  rides  in  apocalyptic  vision,  it  is  not  on  a 
weak  and  stupid  beast,  but  on  a  horse — emblem 
of  majesty  and  strength :  '  *  And  he  went  forth  con- 
quering and  to  conquer. ' ' 


^  CHAPTER  XL. 

WARM- WEATHER  RELIGION. 

It  takes  more  grace  to  be  an  earnest  and  useful 
Christian  in  summer  than  in  any  other  season. 
The  very  destitute,  through  lack  of  fuel  and  thick 
clothing,  may  find  the  winter  the  trying  season, 
but  those  comfortably  circumstanced  find  summer 
the  Thermopylae  that  tests  their  Christian  courage 
and  endurance. 

The  spring  is  suggestive  of  God  and  heaven  and 
a  resurrection  day.  That  eye  must  be  blind  that 
does  not  see  God's  footstep  in  the  new  grass,  and 
hear  His  voice  in  the  call  of  the  swallow  at  the 
eaves.  In  the  white  blossoms  of  the  orchards  we 
find  suggestion  of  those  whose  robes  have  been 
made  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  A  May 
morning  is  a  door  opening  into  heaven. 

So  autumn  mothers  a  great  many  moral  and 
religious  suggestions.  The  season  of  corn  husking, 
the  gorgeous  woods  that  are  becoming  the  cata- 
falque of  the  dead  year,  remind  the  dullest  of  his 
own  fading  and  departure. 

But  summer  fatigues  and  weakens,  and  no  man 
keeps  his  soul  in  as  desirable  a  frame  unless  by 
positive  resolution  and  especial  implorations. 
Pulpit  and  pew  often  get  stupid  together,  and 
ardent    devotion   is  adjourned   until  September. 

But  who  can  aff'ord  to  lose  two  months  out  of 
each  year,  when  the  years  are  so  short  and  so 
few?  He  who  stops  religious  growth  in  July  and 
August  will  require  the  next  six  months  to  get 
over  it.  Nay,  he  never  recovers.  At  the  season 
when  the  fields  are  most  full  of  leafage  and  life 
let  us  not  be  lethargic  and  stupid. 

i8i 


1 82  Aroimd  the  Tea-table. 

Let  us  remember  that  iniquity  does  not  cease  in 
summer-time.  She  never  takes  a  vacation.  The 
devil  never  leaves  town.  The  child  of  want,  liv- 
ing up  that  dark  alley,  has  not  so  much  fresh  air 
nor  sees  as  many  flowers  as  in  winter-time.  In 
cold  weather  the  frost  blossoms  on  her  window 
pane,  and  the  snow  falls  in  wreaths  in  the  alley. 
God  pity  the  wretchedness  that  pants  and  sweats 
and  festers  and  dies  on  the  hot  pavements  and  in 
the  suffocating  cellars  of  the  town ! 

Let  us  remember  that  our  exit  from  this  world 
will  more  probably  be  in  the  summer  than  in  any 
other  season,  and  we  cannot  afford  to  die  at  a 
time  when  w^e  are  least  alert  and  worshipful. 
At  mid-summer  the  average  of  departures  is  larger 
than  in  cool  weather.  "The  sun-strokes,  the 
dysenteries,  the  fevers,  the  choleras,  have  affinity 
for  July  and  August.  On  the  edge  of  summer 
Death  stands  whetting  his  scythe  for  a  great  har- 
vest. We  are  most  careful  to  have  our  doors 
locked,  and  our  windows  fastened,  and  our 
"burglar  alarm"  set  at  times  when  thieves  are 
most  busy,  and  at  a  season  of  the  year  when 
diseases  are  most  active  in  their  burglaries  of 
life  we  need  to  be  ready. 

Our  charge,  therefore,  is,  make  no  adjournment 
of  your  religion  till  cool  weather.  Whether  you 
stay  in  town,  or  seek  the  farm  house,  or  the  sea- 
shore, or  the  mountains,  be  faithful  in  prayer, 
in  Bible  reading  and  in  attendance  upon  Christian 
ordinances.  He  who  throws  away  two  months 
of  life  wastes  that  for  which  many  a  dying  sin- 
ner would  have  been  willing  to  give  all  his  posses- 
sions when  he  found  that  the  harvest  was  past 
and  the  summer  was  ended. 

The  thermometer  to-day  has  stood  at  a  high 
mark.  The  heat  has  been  fierce.  As  far  as  pos- 
sible people  have  kept  within  doors  or  walked  on 
the  shady  side  of  the  street.     But  we  can   have 


Warm-weather  Religion.  183 

but  a  faint  idea  of  what  the  people  suffer  cross- 
ing a  desert  or  in  a  tropical  clime.  The  head 
faints,  the  tongue  swells  and  deathly  sickness 
comes  upon  the  whole  body  when  long  exposed  to 
the  summer  sun.  I  see  a  whole  caravan  pressing 
on  through  the  hot  sands.  ' '  Oh, ' '  say  the  camel- 
drivers,  ''for  water  and  shade!"  At  last  they  see 
an  elevation  against  the  sky.  They  revive  at  the 
sight  and  push  on.  That  which  they  saw  proves 
to  be  a  great  rock,  and  camels  and  drivers  throw 
themselves  down  under  the  long  shadow.  Isaiah, 
who  lived  and  wrote  in  a  scorching  climate,  draws 
his  figure  from  what  he  had  seen  and  felt  when 
he  represents  God  as  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock 
in  a  weary  land. 

Many  people  have  found  this  world  a  desert- 
march.  They  go  half  consumed  of  trouble  all  their 
days.  But  glory  be  to  God !  we  are  not  turned  out 
on  a  desert  to  die.  Here  is  the  long,  cool,  cer- 
tain, refreshing  shadow  of  the  Lord. 

A  tree,  when  in  full  leafage,  drops  a  great  deal 
of  refreshment;  but  in  a  little  while  the  sun 
strikes  through,  and  you  keep  shifting  your  posi- 
tion, until,  after  a  while,  the  sun  is  set  at  such 
a  point  that  you  have  no  shade  at  all.  But  go  in 
the  heart  of  some  great  rock,  such  as  you  see  in 
Yosemite  or  the  Alps,  and  there  is  everlasting 
shadow.  There  has  been  thick  shade  there  for 
six  thousand  years,  and  will  be  for  the  next  six 
thousand.  So  our  divine  Rock,  once  covering  us, 
always  covers  us.  The  same  yesterday,  to-day 
and  for  ever!  always  good,  always  kind,  always 
sympathetic!  You  often  hold  a  sunshade  over 
your  head  passing  along  the  road  or  a  street ;  but 
after  a  while  your  arm  gets  tired,  and  the  very 
efi'ort  to  create  the  shadow  makes  you  weary. 
But  the  rock  in  the  mountains,  with  fingers  of 
everlasting  stone,  holds  its  own  shadow.  So  God's 
sympathy  needs  no  holding  up  from  us.     Though 


184  Around  the  Tea-table. 

we  are  too  weak  from  sickness  or  trouble  to  do 
anything  but  lie  down,  over  us  He  stretches  the 
shadow  of  His  benediction. 

It  is  our  misfortune  that  we  mistake  God's 
shadow  for  the  night.  If  a  man  come  and  stand 
between  you  and  the  sun,  his  shadow  falls  upon 
you.  So  God  sometimes  comes  and  stands  be- 
tween us  and  worldly  successes,  and  His  shadow 
falls  upon  us,  and  we  wrongly  think  that  it  is 
night.  As  a  father  in  a  garden  stoops  down  to 
kiss  his  child  the  shadow  of  his  body  falls  upon 
it;  and  so  many  of  the  dark  misfortunes  of  our 
life  are  not  God  going  away  from  us,  but  our 
heavenly  Father  stooping  down  to  give  us  the 
kiss  of  His  infinite  and  everlasting  love.  It  is  the 
shadow  of  a  sheltering  Eock,  and  not  of  a  de- 
vouring lion. 

Instead  of  standing  right  out  in  the  blistering 
noon-day  sun  of  earthly  trial  and  trouble,  come 
under  the  Eock.  You  may  drive  into  it  the  long- 
est caravan  of  disasters.  Eoom  for  the  suffering, 
heated,  sunstruck,  dying,  of  all  generations,  in 
the  shadow  of  the  great  Eock : 

' '  Eock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me. 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

HIDING  EGGS  FOR  EASTER. 

Those  who  were  so  unfortunate  as  to  have  been 
born  and  brought  up  in  the  city  know  nothing 
about  that  chapter  in  a  boy's  history  of  which  I 


About  a  month  before  Easter  there  comes  to  the 
farmhouse  a  scarcity  of  eggs.  The  farmer's  wife 
begins  to  abuse  the  weasels  and  the  cats  as  the 
probable  cause  of  the  paucity.  The  feline  tribe 
are  assaulted  with  many  a  harsh  ' '  Scat ! "  on  the 
suspicion  of  their  fondness  for  omelets  in  the 
raw.  Custards  fail  from  the  table.  The  Dom- 
inick  hens  are  denounced  as  not  worth  their 
mush.  Meanwhile,  the  boys  stand  round  the  cor- 
ner in  a  broad  grin  at  what  is  the  discomfiture  of 
the  rest  of  the  family. 

The  truth  must  be  told  that  the  boys,  in  antici- 
pation of  Easter,  have,  in  some  hole  in  the  mow 
or  some  barrel  in  the  wagon-house,  been  hiding 
eggs.  If  the  youngsters  understand  their  bus- 
iness, they  will  compromise  the  matter,  and  see 
that  at  least  a  small  supply  goes  to  the  house 
every  day.  Too  great  greed  on  the  part  of  the  boy 
will  discover  the  whole  plot,  and  the  charge  will 
be  made:  ''De  Witt,  I  believe  you  are  hiding 
the  eggs!"  Forthwith  the  boy  is  collared  and 
compelled  to  disgorge  his  possessions. 

Now,  there  is  nothing  more  trying  to  a  boy 
than,  after  great  care  in  accumulating  these  shelly 
resources,  to  have  to  place  them  in  a  basket  and 
bring  them  forth  to  the  light  two  weeks  before 
Easter.  Boys,  therefore,  manage  with  skill  and 
dexterity.     At  this   season  of  the   year   you   see 

185 


1 86  Arou7id  the  Tea-table. 

them  lurking  much  about  the  hayrick  and  the 
hay-loft.  You  see  them  crawling  out  from  stacks 
of  straw  and  walking  away  rapidly  with  their 
hands  behind  them.  They  look  very  innocent, 
for  I  have  noticed  that  the  look  of  innocence  in 
boys  is  proportioned  to  the  amount  of  mischief 
with  which  they  are  stulfed.  They  seem  to  be 
determined  to  risk  their  lives  on  mow-poles  where 
the  hay  lies  thin.  They  come  out  from  under  the 
stable  floor  in  a  despicable  state  of  toilet,  and 
cannot  give  any  excuse  for  their  depreciation  of 
apparel.  Hens  flutter  off  the  nest  with  an  un- 
usual squawk,  for  the  boys  cannot  wait  any  long- 
er for  the  slow  process  of  laying,  and  hens  have 
no  business  to  stand  in  the  way  of  Easter.  The 
most  tedious  hours  of  my  boyhood  were  spent  in 
waiting  for  a  hen  to  get  off  her  nest.  No  use  to 
scare  her  off,  for  then  she  will  get  mad,  and  just 
as  like  as  not  take  the  <t^^  with  her.  Indeed,  I 
think  the  boy  is  excusable  for  his  haste  if  his 
brother  has  a' dozen  eggs  and  he  has  only  eleven. 

At  this  season  of  the  year  the  hens  are  melan- 
choly. They  want  to  hatch,  but  how  can  they? 
They  have  the  requisite  dis^DOsition,  and  the  ca- 
pacity, and  the  feathers,  and  the  nest,  and  every- 
thing but  the  eggs.  With  that  deficit,  they  some- 
times sit  obstinately  and  defy  the  boy's  ap- 
proaches. Many  a  boy  has  felt  the  sharp  bill  of 
old  Dominick  strike' the  back  of  his  hand,  in- 
flicting a  wound  that  would  have  roused  up  the 
whole  farmhouse  to  see  what  was  the  matter  had 
it  not  been  that  the  boy  wanted  to  excite  no  sus- 
picion as  to  the  nature  of  his  expedition.  Im- 
mediately over  the  hen's  head  comes  the  boy's 
cap,  and  there  is  a  scatteration  of  feathers  all  over 
the  hay-mow,  and  the  boy  is  victor. 

But  at  last  the  evening  before  Easter  comes. 
While  the  old  people  are  on  the  piazza  the  chil- 
dren come  in  with  the  accumulated  treasures  of 


Hiding  Eggs  for  Easter,  187 

many  weeks,  and  put  down  the  baskets.  Eggs 
large  and  small,  white-shelled  and  brown,  Cochin- 
Chinas  and  Brahmapooters.  The  character  of  the 
hens  is  vindicated.  The  cat  may  now  lie  in  the 
sun  without  being  kicked  by  false  suspicions. 
The  surprised  exclamation  of  parents  more  than 
compensates  the  boys  for  the  strategy'  of  long  con- 
cealment. The  meanest  thing  in  the  world  is  for 
father  and  mother  not  to  look  surprised  in  such 
circumstances. 

It  sometimes  happens  that,  in  the  agitation  of 
bringing  the  eggs  into  the  household  harbor,  the 
boy  drops  the  hat  or  the  basket,  and  the  whole 
enterprise  is  shipwrecked.  From  our  own  experi- 
ence, it  is  very  difficult  to  pick  up  eggs  after  you 
have  once  dropped  them.  You  have  found  the 
same  experience  in  after  life.  Your  hens  laid  a 
whole  nestful  of  golden  eggs  on  "Wall  street.  You 
had  gathered  them  up.  You  were  bringing  them 
in.  You  expected  a  world  of  congratulations, 
but  just  the  day  before  the  consummation,  some- 
thing adverse  ran  against  you,  and  you  dropped 
the  basket,  and  the  eggs  broke.  Wise  man  were 
you  if,  instead  of  sitting  down  to  cry  or  attempt- 
ing to  gather  up  the  spilled  yolks,  you  built  new 
nests  and  invited  a  new  laying. 

It  is  sometimes  found   on  Easter  morning  that 
the  eggs  have  been  kept  too  long.     The  boy's  in- 
tentions were  good  enough,  but  the  enterprise  had 
been  too  protracted,  and    the  casting  out  of  the 
dozen  was  sudden  and  precipitate.      Indeed,  that 
is  the  trouble  with  some   older  boys   I   wot   of. 
They  keep  their  money,  or   their  brain,  or  their 
influence  hidden  till  it  rots.     They  are  notrWill^ 
ing  to  come  forth  day  by  day  on  a  hunife^^isJt 
sion,  doing  what   little  good   they  rftayi,"  ^kn  afe^' 
keeping  themselves  hidden  till  soniG'gte'atJi  Ea^tW^J 
day  of  triumph,  and  then  they  wi'ft  £[glonighith«f 
Church  and  the  world ;  but  thev  fi&aitliatif ^^t^Xi 


1 88  Around  the  Tea-table. 

ties  too  long  hidden  are  faculties  ruined.  Better 
for  an  egg  to  have  succeeded  in  making  one  plain 
cake  for  a  poor  man's  table  than  to  have  failed 
in  making  a  banquet  for  the  House  of  Lords. 

That  was  a  glad  time  when  on  Easter  morning 
the  eggs  went  into  the  saucepan,  and  came  out 
striped,  and  spotted,  and  blue,  and  yellow,  and 
the  entire  digestive  capacity  of  the  children  was 
tested.  You  have  never  had  anything  so  good  to 
eat  since.  You  found  the  eggs.  You  hid  them. 
They  were  your  contribution  to  the  table.  Since 
then  you  have  seen  eggs  scrambled,  eggs  poached, 
eggs  in  omelet,  eggs  boiled,  eggs  done  on  one  side 
and  eggs  in  a  nog,  but  you  shall  never  find  any- 
thing like  the  flavor  of  that  Easter  morning  in 
boyhood. 

Alas  for  the  boys  in  town !  Easter  comes  to 
them  on  stilts,  and  they  buy  their  eggs  out  of  the 
store.  There  is  no  room  for  a  boy  to  swing  round. 
There  is  no  good  place  in  town  to  fly  a  kite,  or 
trundle  a  hoop,  or  even  shout  without  people's 
throwing  up  the  window  to  see  who  is  killed.  The 
holidays  are  robbed  of  half  their  life  because 
some  wiseacre  will  persist  in  telling  him  who 
Santa  Claus  is,  while  yet  he  is  hanging  up  his 
first  pair  of  stockings.  Here  the  boy  pays  half 
a  dollar  for  a  bottle  of  perfume  as  big  as  his 
finger,  when  out  of  town,  for  nothing  but  the 
trouble  of  breathing  it,  he  may  smell  a  country 
full  of  new-mown  hay  and  wild  honeysuckle. 
In  a  painted  bath-tub  he  takes  his  Saturday  bath 
careful  lest  he  hit  his  head  against  the  spigot, 
while  in  the  meadow-brook  the  boys  plunge  in 
wild  glee,  and  pluck  up  health  and  long  life  from 
the  pebbly  bottom.  Oh,  the  joy  in  the  spring 
day,  when,  after  long  teasing  of  mother  to  let  you 
take  ofi"  your  shoes,  you  dash  out  on  the  cool  grass 
barefoot,  or  down  the  road,  the  dust  curling 
about  the  instep  in  warm  enjoyment,  and,  hence- 


Hiding  Eggs  for  Easter.  1 89 

forth,  for  months,  there  shall  be  no  shoes  to  tie 
or  blacken. 

Let  us  send  the  boys  out  into  the  country  every 
year  for  an  airing.  If  their  grandfather  anci 
grandmother  be  yet  alive,  they  will  give  them  a 
good  time.  They  M'ill  learn  in  a  little  while  the 
mysteries  of  the  hay-mow,  how  to  drive  oxen 
and  how  to  keep  Easter.  They  will  take  the  old 
people  back  to  the  time  when  you  yourself  were 
a  boy.  There  will  be  for  the  grandson  an  extra 
cake  in  each  oven.  And  grandfather  and  grand- 
mother will  sit  and  watch  the  prodigj^  and 
wonder  if  any  other  family  ever  had  such  grand- 
children. It  will  be  a  good  thing  when  the  even- 
ings are  short,  and  the  old  folks'  eyesight  is 
somewhat  dim,  if  you  can  set  up  in  their  house 
for  a  little  while  one  or  two  of  these  lights  of 
childhood.  For  the  time  the  aches  and  pains  of 
old  age  will  be  gone,  and  they  will  feel  as  lithe 
and  merry  as  when  sixty  years  ago  they  them- 
selves rummaged  hayrick,  and  mow  and  wagon- 
house,  hiding  eggs  for  Easter. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 
SINK    OR  SWIM. 

We  entered  the  ministry  with  a  mortal  horror 
of  extemporaneous  speaking.  Each  week  we 
wrote  two  sermons  and  a  lecture  all  out,  fom  the 
text  to  the  amen.  We  did  not  dare  to  give  out 
the  notice  of  a  prayer-meeting  unless  it  was  on 
paper.  We  were  a  slave  to  manuscript,  and  the 
chains  were  galling;  and  three  months  more  of 
such  work  would  have  put  us  in  the  graveyard. 
We  resolved  on  emancipation.  The  Sunday  night 
was  approaching  when  we  expected  to  make 
violent  rebellion  against  this  bondage  of  pen  and 
paper.  We  had  an  essay  about  ten  minutes  long 
on  some  Christian  subject,  which  we  proposed  to 
preach  as  an  introduction  to  the  sermon,  resolved, 
at  the  close  of  that  brief  composition,  to  launch 
out  on  the  great  sea  of  extemporaneousness. 

It  so  happened  that  the  coming  Sabbath  night 
was  to  be  eventful  in  the  village.  The  trustees 
of  the  church  had  been  building  a  gasometer 
back  of  the  church,  and  the  night  I  speak  of  the 
building  was  for  the  first  time  to  be  lighted  in 
the  modern  way.  The  church  was,  of  course, 
crowded — not  so  much  to  hear  the  preacher  as  to 
see  how  the  gas  would  burn.  Many  were  unbe- 
lieving, and  said  that  there  would  be  an  ex- 
plosion, or  a  big  fire,  or  that  in  the  midst  of  the 
service  the  lights  would  go  out.  Several  brethren 
disposed  to  hang  on  to  old  customs  declared  that 
candles  and  oif  were  the  only  fit  material  for 
lighting  a  church,  and  they  denounced  the  inno- 
vation as  indicative  of  vanity  on  the  part  of  the 
new-comers.  They  used  oil  in  the  ancient  temple, 

190 


Sink  or  Swim.  191 

and  it  was  that  which  ran  down  on  Aaron's 
beard,  and  anything  that  Mas  good  enough  for 
the  whiskers  of  an  old-time  priest  was  good 
enough  for  a  countn,-  meeting-house.  These  stick- 
lers for  the  oil  were  present  that  night,  hoping — 
and  I  think  some  of  them  secretly  praying — that 
the  gas  might  go  out. 

With  our  ten-minute  manuscript  we  went  into 
the  pulpit,  all  in  a  tremor.  Although  the  gas  did 
not  burn  as  brightly  as  its  friends  had  hoped, 
still  it  was  bright  enough  to  show  the  people  the 
perspiration  that  stood  in  beads  on  our  forehead. 
We  began  our  discourse,  and  every  sentence  gave 
us  the  feeling  that  we  were  one  step  nearer  the 
gallows.  We  spoke  very  slowly,  so  as  to  make  the 
ten-minute  notes  last  fifteen  minutes.  During  the 
preachment  of  the  brief  manuscript  we  conclud- 
ed that  we  had  never  been  called  to  the  ministry. 
We  were  in  a  hot  bath  of  excitement.  People 
noticed  our  trepidation,  and  supposed  it  was  be- 
cause we  were  afraid  the  gas  would  go  out.  Alas ! 
our  fear  was  that  it  would  not  go  out.  As  we 
came  toward  the  close  of  our  brief  we  joined  the 
anti-gas  party,  and  prayed  that  before  we  came 
to  the  last  written  line  something  would  burst, 
and  leave  us  in  the  darkness.  Indeed,  we  dis- 
covered an  encouraging  flicker  amid  the  burners, 
which  gave  us  the  hope  that  the  brief  which  lay 
before  us  would  be  long  enough  for  all  practical 
purposes,  and  that  the  hour  of  execution  might 
be  postponed  to  some  other  night.  As  we  came 
to  the  sentence  next  to  the  last  the  lights  fell 
down  to  half  their  size,  and  we  could  just  man- 
age to  see  the  audience  as  they  were  floating  away 
from  our  vision.  We  said  to  ourselves,  "Why 
can't  these  lights  be  obliging,  and  go  out  en- 
tirely?" The  wish  was  gratified.  As  we  finished 
the  last  line  of  our  brief,  and  stood  on  the  verge 
of  rhetorical  destruction,  the  last  glimmer  of  light 


192  Around  the  Tea-table. 

was  extinguished.    "It  is  impossible  to  proceed,  '* 
we  cried  out;  ** receive  the  benediction!" 

We  crawled  down  the  pulpit  in  a  state  of  ex- 
hilaration ;  we  never  before  saw  such  handsome 
darkness.  The  odor  of  the  escaping  gas  was  to 
us  like  "gales  from  Araby. "  Did  a  frightened 
young  man  ever  have  such  fortunate  deliverance? 
The  providence  was  probably  intended  to  humble 
the  trustees,  yet  the  scared  preacher  took  advan- 
tage of  it. 

But  after  we  got  home  we  saw  the  wickedness 
of  being  in  such  dread.  As  the  Lord  got  us  out 
of  that  predicament,  we  resolved  never  again  to  be 
cornered  in  one  similar.  Forthwith  the  thralldom 
was  broken,  we  hope  never  again  to  be  felt.  How 
demeaning  that  a  man  with  a  message  from  the 
Lord  Almighty  should  be  dependent  upon  paper- 
mills  and  gasometers !  Paper  is  a  non-conductor 
of  gospel  electricity.  If  a  men  have  a  five-thou- 
sand-dollar bill  of  goods  to  sell  a  customer,  he 
does  not  go  up  to  the  purchaser  and  say,  "I  have 
some  remarks  to  make  to  you  about  these  goods, 
but  just  wait  till  I  get  out  my  manuscript. "  Be- 
fore he  got  through  reading  the  argument  the 
customer  would  be  in  the  next  door,  making  pur- 
chases from  another  house. 

What  cowardice !  Because  a  few  critical  hearers 
sit  with  lead-pencils  out  to  mark  down  the  inac- 
curacies of  extemporaneousness,  shall  the  pulpit 
cower?  If  these  critics  do  not  repent,  they  will 
go  to  hell,  and  take  their  lead-pencils  with  them. 
While  the  great  congregation  are  ready  to  take 
the  bread  hot  out  of  the  oven  shall  the  minis- 
ter be  crippled  in  his  work  because  the  village 
doctor  or  lawyer  sits  carping  before  him?  To 
please  a  few  learned  ninnies  a  thousand  ministers 
sit  writing  sermons  on  Saturday  night  till  near 
the  break  of  day,  their  heads  hot,  their  feet  cold, 
and   their  nerves   a-twitch.      Sermons    born   on 


Sink  or  Swim.  193 

Saturday  night  are  apt  to  have  the  rickets.  In- 
stead of  cramping  our  chests  over  writing-desks, 
and  being  the  slaves  of  the  pen,  let  us  attend  to 
our  physical  health,  that  we  may  have  more  pul- 
pit independence. 

It  would  be  a  grand  thing  if  every  minister  felt 
strong  enough  in  body  to  thrash  any  man  in  his 
audience  improperly  behaving,  but  always  kept 
back  from  such  assault  by  the  fact  that  it  would  be 
wrong  to  do  so.  There  is  a  good  deal  0/  heart 
and  head  in  our  theology,  but  not  enough  liver 
and  backbone.  We  need  a  more  stalwart  Chris- 
tian character,  more  roast  beef  rare,  and  less 
calf 's-foot  jelly.  This  will  make  the  pulpit  more 
bold  and  the  pew  more  manly. 

Which  thoughts  came  to  us  this  week  as  we 
visited  again  the  village  church  aforesaid,  and 
preached  out  of  the  same  old  Bible  in  which,  years 
ago,  we  laid  the  ten-minute  manuscript,  and  we 
looked  upon  the  same  lights  that  once  behaved  so 
badly.  But  we  found  it  had  been  snowing  since 
the  time  we  lived  there,  and  heads  that  then 
were  black  are  white  now,  and  some  of  the  eyes 
which  looked  up  to  us  that  memorable  night 
when  the  gasometer  failed  us,  thirteen  years  ago, 
are  closed  now,  and  for  them  all  earthly  lights 
have  gone  out  for  ever. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

SHELLS  FROM  THE  BEACH. 

Our  summer-house  is  a  cottage  at  East  Hamp- 
ton, Long  Island,  overlooking  the  sea.  Seventeen 
vessels  in  sight,  schooners,  clippers,  hermaphro- 
dite brigs,  steamers,  great  craft  and  small. 
Wonder  where  they  come  from,  and  where  they 
are  going  to,  and  who  is  aboard?  Just  enough 
clovertops  to  sweeten  the  briny  air  into  the  most 
delightful  tonic.  We  do  not  know  the  geological 
history  of  this  place,  but  imagine  that  the  rest  of 
Long  Island  is  the  discourse  of  which  East 
Hampton  is  the  peroration.  There  are  enough 
bluffs  to  relieve  the  dead  level,  enough  grass  to 
clothe  the  hills,  enough  trees  to  drop  the  shadow, 
enough  society  to  keep  one  from  inanity,  and 
enough  quietude  to  soothe  twelve  months  of  per- 
turbation. The  sea  hums  us  to  sleep  at  night,  and 
fills  our  dreams  with  intimations  of  the  land 
where  the  harmony  is  like  "the  voice  of  many 
waters. ' '  In  smooth  w^eather  the  billows  take 
a  minor  key ;  but  when  the  storm  gives  them  the 
pitch,  they  break  forth  with  the  clash  and  up- 
roar of  an  overture  that  fills  the  heavens  and 
makes  the  beach  tremble.  Strange  that  that 
M'hich  rolls  perpetually  and  never  rests  itself 
should  be  a  psalm  of  rest  to  others !  With  these 
sands  of  the  beach  we  help  fill  the  hour-glass  of 
life.  Every  moment  of  the  day  there  comes  in 
over  the  waves  a  flotilla  of  joy  and  rest  and 
health,  and  our  piazza  is  the  wharf  where  the 
stevedores  unburden  their  cargo.  We  have  sun- 
rise with  her  bannered  hosts  in  cloth  of  gold, 
and  moonrise  with  her   innumerable  helmets  and 

194 


Shells  from  the  Beach.  195 

shields  and  swords  and  ensigns  of  silver,  the 
morning  and  the  night  being  the  two  buttresses 
from  which  are  swung  a  bridge  of  cloud  sus- 
pended on  strands  of  sunbeam,  all  the  glories  of 
the  sky  passing  to  and  fro  with  airy  feet  in  silent 
procession. 

We  have  wandered  far  and  wide,  but  found  no 
such  place  to  rest  in.  We  can  live  here  forty- 
eight  hours  in  one  day,  and  in  a  night  get  a  Rip 
Van  Winkle  sleep,  waking  up  without  finding 
our  gun  rusty  or  our  dog  dead. 

No  wonder  that  Mr.  James,  the  first  minister 
of  this  place,  lived  to  eighty  years  of  age,  and 
Mr.  Hunting,  his  successor,  lived  to  be  eighty- 
one  years  of  age,  and  Doctor  Buel,  his  successor, 
lived  to  be  eighty-two  years  of  age.  Indeed,  it 
seems  impossible  for  a  minister  regularly  settled 
in  this  place  to  get  out  of  the  world  before  his 
eightieth  year.  It  has  been  only  in  cases  of  "sta- 
ted supply, ' '  or  removal  from  the  place,  that  early 
demise  has  been  possible.  And  in  each  of  these 
cases  of  decease  at  fourscore  it  was  some  un- 
necessary imprudence  on  their  part,  or  who 
knows  but  that  they  might  be  living  yet?  That 
which  is  good  for  settled  pastors  being  good  for 
other  people,  you  may  judge  the  climate  here  is 
salutary  and  delectable  for  all. 

The  place  was  settled  in  1648,  and  that  is  so 
long  ago  that  it  will  probably  never  be  unsettled. 
The  Puritans  took  possession  of  it  first,  and  have 
always  held  it  for  the  Sabbath,  for  the  Bible  and 
for  God.  Much  maligned  Puritans !  The  world 
will  stop  deriding  them  after  a  while,  and  the 
caricaturists  of  their  stalwart  religion  will  want 
to  claim  them  as  ancestors,  but  it  will  be  too  late 
then ;  for  since  these  latter-day  folks  lie  about 
the  Puritans  now,  we  will  not  believe  them  when 
they  want  to  get  into  the  illustrious  genealogical 
line. 


196  Arou7id  the  Tea-table. 

East  Hampton  has  always  been  a  place  of  good 
morals.  One  of  the  earliest  Puritan  regulations 
of  this  place  was  that  licensed  liquor-sellers 
should  not  sell  to  the  young,  and  that  half  a  pint 
only  should  be  given  to  four  men — an  amount  so 
small  that  most  drinkers  would  consider  it  only 
a  tantalization,  A  woman  here,  in  those  days, 
was  sentenced  *'to  pay  a  fine  of  fifteen  dollars, 
or  to  stand  one  hour  with  a  cleft  stick  upon  her 
tongue,  for  saying  that  her  husband  had  brought 
her  to  a  place  where  there  was  neither  gospel  nor 
magistracy. ' '  She  deserved  punishment  of  some 
kind,  but  they  ought  to  have  let  her  ofi"  with  a 
fine,  for  no  woman's  tongue  ought  to  be  inter- 
fered with.  When  in  olden  time  a  Yankee  ped- 
dler with  the  measles  went  to  church  here  on  the 
Sabbath  for  the  purpose  of  selling  his  knick- 
knacks,  his  behavior  was  considered  so  perfidious 
that  before  the  peddler  left  town  the  next  morn- 
ing the  young  men  gave  him  a  free  ride  upon 
what  seems  to  us  an  uncomfortable  and  insufii- 
cient  vehicle,  namely,  a  rail,  and  then  dropped 
him  into  the  duck-pond.  But  such  conduct  was 
not  sanctioned  by  the  better  people  of  the  place. 
Nothing  could  be  more  unwholesome  for  a  man 
with  ftie  measles  than  a  plunge  in  a  duck-pond, 
and  so  the  peddler  recovered  one  thousand  dollars 
damage.  So  you  see  that  every  form  of  misde- 
meanor was  sternly  put  down.  Think  of  the  high 
state  of  morals  and  religion  which  induced  this 
people,  at  an  early  day,  at  a  political  town-meet- 
ing, to  adopt  this  decree:  "We  do  sociate  and 
conjoin  ourselves  and  successors  to  be  one  town 
or  corporation,  and  do  for  ourselves  and  our  suc- 
cessors, and  such  as  shall  be  adjoined  to  us  at  any 
time  hereafter,  enter  into  combination  and  con- 
federation together  to  maintain  and  preserve  the 
purity  of  the  gospel  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
which  we  now  possess." 


Shells  from  the  Beach.  197 

The  pledge  of  that  day  has  been  fully  kept ; 
and  for  sobriety,  industry,  abhorrence  of  evil  and 
adherence  to  an  unmixed  gospel,  we  know  not  the 
equal  of  this  place. 

That  document  of  two  centuries  ago  reads 
strangely  behind  the  times,  but  it  will  be  some 
hundreds  of  years  yet  before  other  communities 
come  up  to  the  point  where  that  document  stops. 
All  our  laws  and  institutions  are  yet  to  be  Chris- 
tianized. The  Puritans  took  possession  of  this 
land  in  the  name  of  Christ,  and  it  belongs  to  Him ; 
and  if  people  do  not  like  that  religion,  let  them 
go  somewhere  else.  They  can  find  many  lands 
where  there  is  no  Christian  religion  to  bother 
them.  Let  them  emigrate  to  Greenland,  and  we 
will  provide  them  with  mittens,  or  to  the  South 
Sea  Islands,  and  we  will  send  them  ice-coolers. 
This  land  is  for  Christ.  Our  Legislatures  and 
Congresses  shall  yet  pass  laws  as  radically  evangel- 
ical as  the  venerable  document  above  referred 
to.  East  Hampton,  instead  of  being  two  hundred 
years  behind,  is  two  hundred  years  ahead. 

Glorious  place  to  summer !  Darwin  and  Stuart, 
Mill  and  Huxley  and  Eenan  have  not  been 
through  here  yet.  May  they  miss  the  train  the 
day  they  start  for  this  place !  With  an  Atlantic 
Ocean  in  which  to  wash,  and  a  great-hearted, 
practical,  sympathetic  gospel  to  take  care  of  all 
the  future,  who  could  not  be  happy  in  East 
Hampton? 

The  strong  sea-breeze  rufiies  the  sheet  upon 
which  we  write,  and  the  ''white  caps"  are  tossing 
up  as  if  in  greeting  to  Him  who  walks  the  pave- 
ments of  emerald  and  opal : 

''Waft,  waft,  ye  winds,  His  story, 
And  you,  ye  waters,  roll. 
Till,  like  a  sea  of  glory. 
It  spreads  from  pole  to  pole. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 
CATCHING  THE  BAY  MARE. 

It  may  be  a  lack  of  education  on  our  part,  but 
we  confess  to  a  dislike  for  horse-races.  We  never 
attended  but  three ;  the  first  in  our  boyhood,  the 
second  at  a  country  fair,  where  we  were  deceived 
as  to  what  would  transpire,  the  third  last  Sab- 
bath morning.  We  see  our  friends  flush  with 
indignation  at  this  last  admission ;  but  let  them 
wait  a  moment  before  they  launch  their  verdict. 

Our  horse  was  in  the  pasture-field.  It  was  al- 
most time  to  start  for  church,  and  we  needed  the 
animal  harnessed.  The  boy  came  in  saying  it  was 
impossible  to  catch  the  bay  mare,  and  calling  for 
our  assistance.  We  had  on  our  best  clothes,  and 
did  not  feel  like  exposing  ourself  to  rough  usage ; 
but  we  vaulted  the  fence  with  pail  of  water  in 
hand,  expecting  to  try  the  effect  of  rewards  rather 
than  punishments.  The  horse  came  out  generously 
to  meet  us.  We  said  to  the  boy,  ' '  She  is  ver\' 
tame.  Strange  you  cannot  catch  her. ' '  She  came 
near  enough  to  cautiously  smell  the  pail,  when 
she  suddenly  changed  her  mind,  and  with  one 
wild  snort  dashed  off  to  the  other  end  of  the  field. 

Whether  she  was  not  thirsty,  or  was  critical  of 
the  manner  of  presentation,  or  had  apprehensions 
of  our  motive,  or  was  seized  with  desire  for  exer- 
cise in  the  open  air,  she  gave  us  no  chance  to 
guess.  We  resolved  upon  more  caution  of  ad- 
vance and  gentler  voice,  and  so  laboriously  ap- 
proached her ;  for  though  a  pail  of  water  is  light 
for  a  little  way,  it  gets  heavy  after  you  have  gone 
a  considerable  distance,  though  its  contents  be 
half  spilled  away. 

198 


Catching  the  Bay  Mare.  199 

This  time  we  succeeded  in  getting  her  nose  in- 
serted into  the  bright  beverage.  We  called  her 
by  pet  names,  addressing  her  as  "Poor  Dolly!" 
not  wishing  to  suggest  any  pauperism  by  that 
term,  but  only  sympathy  for  the  sorrows  of  the 
brute  creation,  and  told  her  that  she  was  the 
finest  horse  that  ever  was.  It  seemed  to  take  well, 
Flattery  always  does — with  horses. 

We  felt  that  the  time  had  come  for  us  to  pro- 
duce the  rope  halter,  which  with  our  left  hand 
we  had  all  the  while  kept  secreted  behind  our 
back.  We  put  it  over  her  neck,  when  the  beast 
wheeled,  and  we  seized  her  by  the  point  where 
the  copy-books  say  we  ought  to  take  Time, 
namely,  the  forelock.  But  we  had  poor  luck. 
We  ceased  all  caressing  tone,  and  changed  the 
subjunctive  mood  for  the  imperative.  There 
never  was  a  greater  divergence  of  sentiment  than 
at  that  instant  between  us  and  the  bay  mare.  She 
pulled  one  way,  we  pulled  the  other.  Turning 
her  back  upon  us,  she  ejaculated  into  the  air  two 
shining  horseshoes,  both  the  shape  of  the  letter 
O,  the  one  interjection  in  contempt  for  the  min- 
istry, and  the  other  in  contempt  for  the  press. 

But  catch  the  horse  we  must,  for  we  were  bound 
to  be  at  church,  though  just  then  we  did  not  feel 
at  all  devotional.  We  resolved,  therefore,  with 
the  boy,  to  run  her  down ;  so,  by  the  way  of 
making  an  animated  start,  we  slung  the  pail  at 
the  horse's  head,  and  put  out  on  a  Sunday  morn- 
ing horse-race.  Ever^^  time  she  stood  at  the  other 
end  of  the  field  waiting  for  us  to  come  up.  She 
trotted,  galloped  and  careered  about  us,  with  an 
occasional  neigh  cheerfully  given  to  encourage  us 
in  the  pursuit.  We  were  getting  more  unpre- 
pared in  body,  mind  and  soul  for  the  sanctuary. 
Meanwhile,  quite  a  household  audience  lined  the 
fence;  the  children  and  visitors  shouting  like  ex- 
cited Romans  in  an  amphitheatre  at  a  contest  with 


200  Aroinid  the  Tea-table, 

wild  beairts.  and  it  ■was  uncertiiin  whether  the 
audience  was  in  sympathy  with  us  or  the  bay 
mare. 

At  this  unhappy  juncture,  she  who  some  years 
ago  took  us  for  ' '  Better  or  for  worse" '  came  to  the 
rescue,  finding  us  in  the  latter  condition.  She 
advance<:l  to  the  field  with  a  wash-basin  full  of 
water,  ofi'ering  that  as  sole  inducement,  and  gave 
one  call,  when  the  horse  went  out  to  meet  her, 
and  under  a  hand,  not  half  as  strong  as  ours, 
gripping  the  mane,  the  refractory  beast»was  led 
to  the  manger. 

Standing  with  our  feet  in  the  damp  grass  and 
our  new  clothes  wet  to  a  sop,  we  learned  then  and 
there  how  much  depends  on  the  way  you  do  a 
thing.  The  proposition  we  made  to  the  bay  mare 
was  far  better  than  that  oflTered  by  our  compan- 
ion ;  but  ours  failed  and  hers  succeeded.  Xot  the 
first  nor  the  last  time  that  a  wash-basin  has 
beaten  a  pail.  So  some  of  us  go  all  through  life 
clumsily  coaxing  and  awkwardly  pm-suing  things 
which  we  want  to  halter  and  control.  We  strain 
every  nerve,  only  to  find  ourselves  befooled  and 
left  far  behind,'  while  some  Christian  man  or 
woman  comes  into  the  field,  and  by  easy  art  cap- 
tures that  which  evaded  us. 

We  heard  a  good  sermon  that  day,  but  it  was 
no  more  impressive  than  the  besweated  lesson  of 
the  pasture-field,  which  taught  us  that  no  more 
dei>ends  upon  the  thing  you  do  than  upon  the 
way  you  do  it.  The  difl"erenceb>et ween  the  clean 
swath  of  that  harvester  in  front  of  our  house  and 
the  ragged  work  of  his  neighbor  is  in  the  way 
he  swings  the  scythe,  and  not  in  the  scythe  itself. 
There  are  ten  men  with  one  talent  apiece  who  do 
more  good  than  the  one  man  with  ten  talents. 
A  basin  properly  lifted  may  accomplish  more  than 
a  pail  unskillfully  swung.  A  minister  for  an  hour 
in  his  sermon  attempts  to  chase  down  those  brut- 


Catching  the  Bay  Mare.  201 

ish  in  their  habits,  attempting  to  fetch  them 
under  the  harness  of  Christian  restraint,  and  per- 
iiaps  miserably  fails,  ^vhen  some  gentle  hand  of 
sisterly  or  motherly  affection  laid  upon  the  way- 
ward one  brings  him  safely  in. 

There  is  a  knack  in  doing  things.  If  all  those 
who  plough  in  State  and  Church  had  known  how  to 
hold  the  handles,  and  turn  a  straight  furrow,  and 
stop  the  team  at  the  end  of  the  tield,  the  world 
would  long  ago  have  been  ploughed  into  an  Eden. 
What  many  people  want  is  gumption — a  word  as 
yet  undefinecl;  but  if  you  do  not  know  what  it 
means,  it  is  very  certain  you  do  not  possess  the 
quality  it  describes.  We  all  need  to  study  Chris- 
tian tact.  The  boys  in  the  Baskinridge'  school- 
house  laughed  at  William  L.  Dayton's  impediment 
of  speech,  but  that  did  not  hinder  him  from 
afterward  making  court-room  and  senate-chamber 
thrill  under  the  spell  of  his  words. 

In  our  early  home  there  was  a  vicious  cat  that 
would  invade  the  milk-pans,  and  we,  the  boys, 
chased  her  with  hoes  and  rakes,  always  hitting 
the  place  where  she  had  been  just  before,  till  one 
day  father  came  out  with  a  plain  stick  of  oven- 
wood,  and  with  one  little  clip  back  of  the  ear  put 
an  end  to  all  of  her  nine  lives.  You  see  every- 
thing depends  upon  the  style  of  the  stroke,  and. 
not  upon  the  elaborateness  of  the  weapon.  The 
most  valuable  things  you  try  to  take  will  behave 
like  the  bay  mare;  but  what  you  cannot  overcome 
by  coarse  persuasion,  or  reach  at  full  run,  you 
can  catch  with  apostolic  guile.  Learn  the  first- 
rate  art  of  doing  secular  or  Christian  work,  and' 
then  it  matters  not  whether  your  weapon  be  a. 
basin  or  a  pail. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 
OUR  FIRST  AND  LAST  CIGAR. 

The  time  had  come  in  our  boyhood  which  we 
thought  demanded  of  us  a  capacity  to  smoke. 
The  old  people  of  the  household  could  abide 
neither  the  sight  nor  the  smell  of  the  Virginia 
weed.  When  ministers  came  there,  not-by  posi- 
tive injunction  but  by  a  sort  of  instinct  as  to 
what  would  be  safest,  they  whiffed  their  pipe  on 
the  back  steps.  If  the  house  could  not  stand 
sanctified  smoke,  you  may  know  how  little  chance 
there  was  for  adolescent  cigar-puffing. 

By  some  rare  good  fortune  which  put  in  our 
hands  three  cents,  we  found  access  to  a  tobacco 
store.  As  the  lid  of  the  long,  narrow,  fragrant 
box  opened,  and  for  the  first  time  we  own  a  cigar, 
our  feelings  of  elation,  manliness,  superiority 
and  anticipation  can  scarcely  be  imagined,  save 
by  those  who  have  had  the  same  sensation.  Our 
first  ride  on  horseback,  though  we  fell  off  before 
we  got  to  the  barn,  and  our  first  pair  of  new 
boots  (real  squeakers)  we  had  thought  could 
never  be  surpassed  in  interest ;  but  when  we  put 
the  cigar  to  our  lips,  and  stuck  the  lucifer  match 
to  the  end  of  the  weed,  and  commenced  to  pull 
with  an  energy  that  brought  every  facial  muscle 
to  its  utmost  tension,  our  satisfaction  with  this 
world  was  so  great,  our  temptation  was  never  to 
want  to  leave  it. 

The  cigar  did  not  burn  well.  It  required  an 
amount  of  suction  that  tasked  our  determination 
to  the  utmost.  You  see  that  our  worldly  means 
had  limited  us  to  a  quality  that  cost  only  three 
cents.    But  we  had  been  taught  that  nothing  great 


Our  First  a7id  La^t  Cigar  203 

was  accomplished  without  effort,  and  so  we  puffed 
away.  Indeed,  we  had  heard  our  older  brothers 
in  their  Latin  lessons  say,  Omnia  vincet  labor; 
which  translated  means,  If  you  want  to  make 
anything  go,  you  must  scratch  for  it. 

With  these  sentiments  we  passed  down  the  vil- 
lage street  and  out  toward  our  country  home.  Our 
head  did  not  feel  exactly  right,  and  the  street 
began  to  rock  from  side  to  side,  so  that  it  was 
uncertain  to  us  M'hich  side  of  the  street  we  were 
on.  So  we  crossed  over,  but  found  ourself  on 
the  same  side  that  we  were  on  before  we  crossed 
over.  Indeed,  we  imagined  that  we  were  on  both 
sides  at  the  same  time,  and  several  fast  teams 
driving  between.  We  met  another  boy,  who 
asked  us  why  we  looked  so  pale,  and  we  told  him 
we  did  not  look  pale,  \>ut  that  he  was  pale  himself. 

We  sat  down  under  the  bridge  and  began  to  re- 
flect on  the  prospect  of  early  decease,  and  on  the 
uncertainty  of  all  earthly  expectations.  We  had 
determined  to  smoke  the  cigar  all  up  and  thus  get 
the  worth  of  our  money,  but  were  obliged  to 
throw  three-fourths  of  it  away,  yet  knew  just 
where  we  threw  it,  in  case  we  felt  better  the  next 
day. 

Getting  home,  the  old  people  were  frightened, 
and  demanded  that  we  state  what  kept  us  so  late 
and  what  was  the  matter  with  us.  Not  feeling 
that  we  were  called  to  go  into  particulars,  and 
not  wishing  to  increase  our  parents'  apprehension 
that  we  were  going  to  turn  out  badly,  we  summed 
up  the  case  with  the  statement  that  we  felt  mis- 
erable at  the  pit  of  the  stomach.  We  had  mus- 
tard plasters  administered,  and  careful  watching 
for  some  hours,  when  we  fell  asleep  and  forgot 
our  disappointment  and  humiliation  in  being 
obliged  to  throw  away  three-fourths  of  our  first 
cigar.  Being  naturally  reticent,  we  have  never 
mentioned  it  until  this  time. 


204  Around  the  Tea-table. 

But  how  about  our  last  cigar?  It  was  three 
o'clock  Sabbath  morning  in  our  Western  home. 
We  had  smoked  three  or  four  cigars  since  tea.  At 
that  time  we  wrote  our  sermons  and  took  another 
cigar  with  each  new  head  of  discourse.  We 
thought  we  were  getting  the  inspiration  from 
above,  but  were  getting  much  of  it  from  beneath. 
Our  hand  trembled  along  the  line ;  and  strung  up 
to  the  last  tension  of  nerves,  we  finished  our  work 
and  started  from  the  room.  A  book  standing  on 
the  table  fell  over ;  and  although  it  was  not  a  large 
book,  its  fall  sounded  to  our  excited  system  like 
the  crack  of  a  pistol.  As  we  went  down  the  stairs 
their  creaking  made  our  hair  stand  on  end.  As 
we  flung  ourselves  on  a  sleepless  pillow  we  re- 
solved, God  helping,  that  we  had  smoked  our  last 
cigar,  and  committed  our  last  sin  of  night-study. 

We  kept  our  promise.  With  the  same  resolu- 
tion went  overboard  coffee  and  tea.  That  night 
we  were  born  into  a  new  physical,  mental  and 
moral  life.  Perhaps  it  may  be  better  for  some  to 
smoke,  and  study  nights,  and  take  exciting  tem- 
perance beverages ;  but  we  are  persuaded  that  if 
thousands  of  people  who  now  go  moping,  and 
nervous,  and  half  exhausted  through  life,  down 
with  "sick  headaches"  and  rasped  by  irritabil- 
ities, would  try  a  good  large  dose  of  abstinence, 
they  would  thank  God  for  this  paragraph  of  i)er- 
sonal  experience,  and  make  the  world  the  same 
bright  place  we  find  it — a  place  so  attractive  that 
nothing  short  of  heaven  would  be  good  enough 
to  exchange  for  it. 

The  first  cigar  made  us  desperately  sick ;  the 
throwing  away  of  our  last  made  us  gloriously 
well.  For  us  the  croaking  of  the  midnight  owl 
hath  ceased,  and  the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds 
has  come. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 
MOVE,  MOVING,  MOVED. 

The  first  of  May  is  to  many  the  beginning  of 
the  year.  From  that  are  dated  the  breakages, 
the  social  startings,  the  ups  and  downs,  of  do- 
mestic life.  One-half  Xew  York  is  moving  into 
smaller  houses,  the  other  half  into  larger.  The 
past  year's  success  or  failure  decides  which  way 
the  horses  of  the  furniture- wagon  shall  turn  their 
heads. 

Days  before,  the  work  of  packing  commenced. 
It  is  astonishing  how  many  boxes  and  barrels  are 
required  to  contain  all  your  wares.  You  come 
upon  a  thousand  things  that  you  had  forgotten, 
too  good  to  throw  away  and  too  poor  to  keep :  old 
faded  carpet-bags  that  would  rouse  the  mirth  of 
the  town  if  you  dared  to  carry  them  into  the 
street ;  straw  hats  out  of  the  fashion  ;  beavers  that 
you  ought  to  have  given  away  while  they  might 
have  been  useful;  odd  gloves,  shoes,  coats  and 
slips  of  carpet  that  have  been  the  nest  of  rats, 
and  a  thousand  things  that  you  laid  away  because 
you  some  day  might  want  them,  but  never  will. 

For  the  last  few  days  in  the  old  house  the  ac- 
commodations approach  the  intolerable.  Every- 
thing is  packed  up.  The  dinner  comes  to  you  on 
shattered  crockery  which  is  about  to  be  thrown 
away,  and  the  knives  are  only  painful  reminis- 
cences of  what  they  once  were.  The  teapot  that 
we  used  before  we  got  our  "new  set"  comes  on 
time  to  remind  us  how  common  we  once  were. 
You  can  upset  the  coffee  without  soiling  the 
tablecloth,  for  there  is  none.  The  salt  and  sugar 
come  to  you  in  cups  looking  so  much  alike  that 

205 


2o6  Aroiuid  the  Tea-table. 

you  find  out  for  the  first  time  how  coffee  tastes 
when  salted,  or  fish  when  it  is  sweetened.  There 
is  no  place  to  sit  down,  and  you  have  no  time 
to  do  so  if  you  found  one.  The  bedsteads  are 
down,  and  you  roll  into  the  corner  at  night,  a 
self -elected  pauper,  and  all  the  night  long  have  a 
quarrel  with  your  pillow,  which  persists  in  get- 
ting out  of  bed,  and  your  foot  wanders  out  into 
the  air,  feeling  for  greater  length  of  cover.  If 
the  children  cry  in  the  night,  you  will  not  find 
the  matches  nor  the  lamp  nor  anything  else  save 
a  trunk  just  in  time  to  fall  over  it,  getting  up 
with  confused  notions  as  to  which  is  the  way  to 
bed,  unless  there  be  some  friendly  voice  to  hail 
you  through  the  darkness. 

The  first  of  INIay  dawns.  The  carts  come.  It 
threatens  rain,  but  not  a  drop  until  you  get  your 
best  rosewood  chairs  out  of  doors,  and  your  bed- 
ding on  the  top  of  the  wagon.  Be  out  at  twelve 
o'clock  you  must,  for  another  family  are  on  your 
heels,  and  Thermopylae  was  a  very  tame  pass 
compared  with  the  excitement  which  rises  when 
two  families  meet  in  the  same  hall — these  moving 
out  and  those  moving  in.  They  swear,  unless 
they  have  positive  principles  to  prohibit.  A 
mere  theory  on  the  subject  of  swearing  will  be  no 
hindrance.  Long-established  propriety  of  speech, 
buttressed  up  by  the  most  stalwart  determination 
is  the  only  safety.  Men  who  talk  right  all  the 
rest  of  the  year  sometimes  let  slip  on  the  first  of 
May.  We  know  a  member  of  the  church  who 
uses  no  violence  of  speech  except  on  moving  day, 
and  then  he  frequently  cries  out:  ''By  the  great 
United  States ! " 

All  day  long  the  house  is  full  of  racket :  "Look 
out  how  you  scratch  that  table!"  "There I  you 
have  dropped  the  leg  out  of  that  piano ! ' '  "There 
goes  the  looking-glass!"  "Ouch!  you  have 
smashed  my  finger!"     "Didn't  you  see  you  were 


Move,  Moving,  Moved.  207 

pushing  me  against  the  wall?"  "Get  out  of  our 
way !  It's  one  o'clock,  and  your  things  are  not 
half  moved !  Carmen !  take  hold  and  tumble 
these  things  into  the  street ! ' '  Our  carmen  and 
theirs  get  into  a  fight.  Our  servants  on  our  side, 
their  servants  on  theirs.  We,  opposed  to  any- 
thing but  peace,  try  to  quiet  the  strife,  yet,  if 
they  must  go  on,  feel  we  would  like  to  have  our 
men  triumph.  Like  England  during  our  late 
war,  we  remain  neutral,  yet  have  our  preferences 
as  to  which  shall  beat.  Now  dash  comes  the  rain, 
and  the  water  cools  off  the  heat  of  the  combatants. 
The  carmen  must  drive  fast,  so  as  to  get  the 
things  out  of  the  wet,  but  slow,  so  as  not  to  rub 
the  furniture. 

As  our  last  load  starts  we  go  in  to  take  a  fare- 
well look  at  the  old  place.  In  that  parlor  we 
have  been  gay  with  our  friends  many  a  time,  and 
as  we  glance  round  the  room  we  seem  to  see  the 
great  group  of  their  faces.  The  best  furniture  we 
ever  had  in  our  parlor  was  a  circle  of  well-wishers. 
Here  is  the  bedroom  where  we  slept  off  the 
world's  cares,  and  got  up  glad  as  the  lark  when 
the  morning  sky  beckons  it  upward.  Many  a 
time  this  room  has  been  full  of  sleep  from  door- 
sill  to  ceiling.  We  always  did  feel  grandlj'-  after 
we  had  put  an  eight-hour  nap  between  us  and 
life's  perplexities.  We  are  accustomed  to  divide 
our  time  into  two  parts :  the  first  to  be  devoted  to 
hard,  blistering,  consuming  work,  and  the  rest  to 
be  given  to  the  most  jubilant  fun ;  and  sleep 
comes  under  the  last  head. 

We  step  into  the  nursery  for  a  last  look.  The 
crib  is  gone,  and  the  doll  babies  and  the  block- 
houses, but  the  echoes  have  not  yet  stopped  gal- 
loping; May's  laugh,  and  Edith's  glee,  and 
Frank's  shout,  as  he  urged  the  hobby-horse  to 
its  utmost  speed,  both  heels  struck  into  the  flanks, 
till  out  of  his  glass  eye  the  horse  seemed  to  say : 


.2o8  Around  the  Tea-table. 

"Do  that  again,  and  I  will  throw  you  to  the 
•other  side  of  the  trundle-bed!"  Farewell,  old 
house !  It  did  not  suit  us  exactly,  but  thank  God 
for  the  good  times  we  had  in  it ! 

Moving-day  is  almost  gone.  It  is  almost  night. 
'Tumble  everything  into  the  new  house.  Put  up 
the  bedsteads.  But  who  has  the  wrench,  and 
who  the  screws?  Packed  up,  are  they?  In  what 
box?  It  may  be  any  one  of  the  half  dozen.  Ah ! 
now  I  know  in  which  box  you  will  find  it;  in 
the  last  one  you  open  I  Hungry,  are  you?  No 
time  to  talk  of  food  till  the  crockery  is  unpacked. 
True  enough,  here  they  come.  That  last  jolt  of 
the  cart  finished  the  teacups.  The  jolt  before 
that  fractured  some  of  the  plates,  and  Bridget 
now  drops  the  rest  of  them.  The  Paradise  of 
crockery-merchants  is  moving-day.  I  think,  from 
the  results  which  I  see,  that  they  must  about  the 
first  of  May  spend  most  of  their  time  in  praying 
for  success  in  business. 

Seated  on  the  boxes,  you  take  tea,  and  then 
down  with  the  carpets.  They  must  be  stretched, 
and  pieced,  and  pulled,  and  matched.  The  whole 
family  are  on  their  knees  at  the  work,  and  red 
in  the  face,  and  before  the  tacks  are  driven  all 
the  fingers  have  been  hammered  once  and  are 
taking  a  second  bruising.  Nothing  is  where  you 
expected  to  find  it.  Where  is  the  hammer? 
Where  are  the  tacks?  Where  the  hatchet?  Where 
the  screw-driver?  Where  the  nails?  Where  the 
window-shades?  Where  is  the  slat  to  that  old 
bedstead?  Where  are  the  rollers  to  that  stand? 
The  sweet-oil  has  been  emptied  into  the  black- 
berry-jam. The  pickles  and  the  plums  have  gone 
out  together  a-swimming.  The  lard  and  the  butter 
have  united  as  skillfully  as  though  a  grocer  had 
mixed  them.  The  children  who  thought  it 
would  be  grand  sport  to  move  are  satiated,  and 
one- half  the  city  of  New  York  at  the  close  of 


Move,  Moving,  Moved.  209 

May -day  go  to  bed  worn  out,  sick  and  disgusted. 
It  is  a  social  earthquake  that  annually  shakes  the 
city. 

It  may  be  that  very  soon  some  of  our  rich  rela- 
tives will,  at  their  demise,  "will"  us  each  one  a 
house,  so  that  we  shall  be  permanently  fixed. 
We  should  be  sorry  to  have  them  quit  the  world 
under  any  circumstances ;  but  if,  determined  to 
go  anyhow,  they  should  leave  us  a  house,  the 
void  would  not  be  so  large,  especially  if  it  were 
a  house,  well  furnished  and  having  all  the  mod- 
ern improvements.  We  would  be  thankful  for  any 
good  advice  they  might  leave  us,  but  should  more 
highly  appreciate  a  house. 

May  all  the  victims  of  moving-day  find  their  new 
home  attractive !  If  they  have  gone  into  a  smal- 
ler house,  let  them  congratulate  themselves  at  the 
thought  that  it  takes  less  time  to  keep  a  small 
house  clean  than  a  big  one.  May  they  have 
plenty  of  Spaulding's  glue  with  which  to  repair 
breakages !  May  the  carpets  fit  better  than  they 
expected,  and  the  family  that  moved  out  have 
taken  all  their  cockroaches  and  bedbugs  with 
them ! 

And,  better  than  all — and  this  time  in  sober 
earnest — by  the  time  that  moving-day  comes 
again,  may  they  have  made  enough  money  to  buy 
a  house  from  which  they  will  never  have  to  move 
until  the  House  of  maiiy  mansions  be  ready  to 
receive  them ! 


CHAPTER   XLVII. 
ADVANTAGE  OF  SMALL  LIBEARIES. 

We  never  see  a  valuable  book  without  wanting 
it.  The  most  of  us  have  been  struck  through 
with  a  passion  for  books.  Town,  city  and  state 
libraries  to  us  are  an  enchantment.  We  hear  of 
a  private  library  of  ten  thousand  volumes,  and 
think  what  a  heaven  the  owner  must  be  living  in. 
But  the  probability  is  that  the  man  who  has  five 
hundred  volumes  is  better  ofiF  than  the  man  who 
has  five  thousand.  The  large  private  libraries  in 
uniform  editions,  and  unbroken  sets,  and  Russia 
covers,  are,  for  the  most  part,  the  idlers  of  the 
day ;  while  the  small  libraries,  with  broken- 
backed  books,  and  turned-down  leaves,  and  lead- 
pencil  scribbles  in  the  margin,  are  doing  the  chief 
work  for  the  world  and  the  Church. 

For  the  most  part,  the  owners  of  large  collec- 
tions have  their  chief  anxiety  about  the  binding 
and  the  type.  Take  down  the  whole  set  of 
Walter  Scott's  novels,  and  find  that  only  one  of 
them  has  been  read  through.  There  are']Motley's 
histories  on  that  shelf;  but  get  into  conversation 
about  the  Prince  of  Orange,  and  see  that  Motley 
has  not  been  read.  I  never  was  more  hungry 
than  once  while  walking  in  a  Charleston  mill 
amid  whole  harvests  of  rice.  One  handful  of 
that  grain  in  a  pudding  would  have  been  worth 
more  to  me  than  a  thousand  tierces  uncooked. 
Great  libraries  are  of  but  little  value  if  unread, 
and  amid  great  profusion  of  books  the  temptation 
is  to  read  but  little.  If  a  man  take  up  a  book,  and 
feel  he  will  never  have  a  chance  to  see  it  again, 
he  says:      *'I  must  read  it  now  or  never,"    and 


Advantage  of  Small  Libraries.       211 

before  the  day  is  past  has  devoured  it.  The 
owner  of  the  large  library  says:  "I  have  it  on 
my  shelf,  and  any  time  can  refer  to  it." 

What  we  can  have  any  time  we  never  have. 
I  found  a  group  of  men  living  at  the  foot  of 
Whiteface  Mountain  who  had  never  been  to  the 
top,  while  I  had  come  hundreds  of  miles  to  as- 
cend it.  They  could  go  any  time  so  easily.  It  is 
often  the  case  that  those  who  have  plain  copies 
of  history  are  better  acquainted  with  the  past 
than  those  who  have  most  h'ghly  adorned  editions 
of  Bancroft,  Prescott,  Josephus  and  Herodotus. 
It  ought  not  so  to  be,  you  say.  I  cannot  help  that ; 
so  it  is. 

Books  are  sometimes  too  elegantly  bound  to  be 
read.  The  gilt,  the  tinge,  the  ivory,  the  clasps, 
seem  to  say:  "Hands  off!"  The  thing  that 
most  surprised  me  in  Thomas  Carlyle's  library 
was  the  fewness  of  the  books.  They  had  all  seen 
service.  None  of  them  had  paraded  in  holiday 
dress.  They  were  worn  and  battered.  He  had 
flung  them  at  the  ages. 

More  beautiful  than  any  other  adornments  are 
the  costly  books  of  a  princely  library ;  h>ut  let  not 
the  man  of  small  library  stand  looking  into  the 
garnished  alcoves  wishing  for  these  unused  vol- 
umes. The  workman  who  dines  on  roast  beef 
and  new  Irish  potatoes  will  be  healthier  and 
stronger  than  he  who  begins  with  ' '  mock-turtle, ' ' 
and  goes  up  through  the  lane  of  a  luxuriant  table 
till  he  comes  to  almond-nuts.  I  put  the  man  of 
one  hundred  books,  mastered,  against  the  man 
of  one  thousand  books  of  which  he  has  only  a 
smattering. 

On  lecturing  routes  I  have  sometimes  been  turned 
into  costly  private  libraries  to  spend  the  day  ;  and 
I  reveled  in  the  indexes,  and  scrutinized  the  lids, 
and  set  them  back  in  as  straight  a  row  as  when 
I  found  them,  yet  learned  little.    But  on  my  way 


212  Aroimd  the  Tea-table. 

home  in  the  cars  I  took  out  of  my  satchel  a  book 
that  had  cost  me  only  one  dollar  and  a  half,  and 
afterward  found  that  it  had  changed  the  course 
of  my  life  and  helped  decide  my  eternal  destiny. 

We'  get  many  letters  from  clergymen  asking  ad- 
vice about  reading,  and  deploring  their  lack  of 
books.  I  warrant  they  all  have  books  enough  to 
shake  earth  and  heaven  with,  if  the  books  were 
rightly  used.  A  man  who  owns  a  Bible  has,  to 
begin  with,  a  library  as  long  as  from  here  to 
heaven.  The  dullest  preachers  I  know  of  have 
splendid  libraries.  They  own  everything  that 
has  been  written  on  a  miracle,  and  yet  when  you 
hear  them  preach,  if  you  did  not  get  sound 
asleep,  that  would  be  a  miracle.  They  have  all 
that  Calvin  and  other  learned  men  wrote  about 
election,  and  while  you  hear  them  you  feel  that 
you  have  been  elected  to  be  bored.  They  have 
been  months  and  years  turning  over  the  heavy 
tomes  on  the  divine  attributes,  trying  to  under- 
stand God,  while  some  plain  Christian,  with  a 
New  Testament  in  his  hand,  goes  into  the  next 
alley,  and  sees  in  the  face  of  an  invalid  woman 
peace  and  light  and  comfort  and  joy  which  teach 
him  in  one  hour  what  God  is. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  dullness— learned  dull- 
ness and  ignorant  dullness.  We  think  the  latter 
preferable,  for  it  is  apt  to  be  more  spicy.  You 
cannot  measure  the  length  of  a  man's  brain,  nor 
the  width  of  his  heart,  nor  the  extent  of  his  use- 
fulness by  the  size  of  his  library. 

Life  is" so  short  you  cannot  know  everything. 
There  are  but  few  things  we  need  to  know,  but 
let  us  know  them  well.  People  who  know  every- 
thing do  nothing.  You  cannot  read  all  that 
€omes  out.  Every  book  read  without  digestion 
is  so  much  dyspepsia.  Sixteen  apple-dumplings 
at  one  meal  are  not  healthy. 

In  our  age,  when  hundreds  of  books  are  launched 


A dva n tage  of  Small  L ibra  ries .       215. 

every  day  from  the  press,  do  not  be  ashamed  to 
confess  ignorance  of  the  majority  of  tlie  vokimes 
printed.  If  you  have  no  artistic  appreciation, 
spend  neither  your  dollars  nor  your  time  on  John 
Ruskin.  Do  not  say  that  you  are  fond  of  Shake- 
speare if  you  are  not  interested  in  him,  and  after 
a  year's  study  would  not  know  Romeo  from  John 
Falstaff.  There  is  an  amazing  amount  of  lying^ 
rbout  Shakespeare. 

Use  to  the  utmost  what  books  you  have,  and  do 
not  waste  your  time  in  longing  after  a  great  li- 
brary. You  wish  you  could  live  in  the  city  and 
have  access  to  some  great  collection  of  books.  Be 
not  deceived.  The  book  of  the  library  which  you 
want  will  be  out  the  day  you  want  it.  I  longed 
to  live  in  town  that  I  might  be  in  proximity  to^ 
great  libraries.  Have  lived  in  town  thirteen 
years,  and  never  found  in  the  public  library  the 
book  I  asked  for  but  once ;  and  getting  that  home, 
I  discovered  it  was  not  the  one  I  wanted.  Be- 
sides, it  is  the  book  that  you  own  that  most 
profits,  not  that  one  which  you  take  from  "The 
Athenaeum"  for  a  few  days. 

Excepting  in  rare  cases,  you  might  as  well  send 
to  the  foundling  hospital  and  borrow  a  baby  as  to- 
borrow  a  book  with  the  idea  of  its  being  any 
great  satisfaction.  We  like  a  baby  in  our  cradle, 
but  prefer  that  one  which  belongs  to  the  house- 
hold. We  like  a  book,  but  want  to  feel  it  is  ours. 
We  never  yet  got  any  advantage  from  a  borrowed 
book.  We  hope  those  never  reaped  any  profit 
from  the  books  they  borrowed  from  us,  but  never 
returned.  We  must  have  the  right  to  turn  down 
the  leaf,  and  underscore  the  favorite  passage,  and 
write  an  observation  in  the  margin  in  such  poor 
chirography  that  no  one  else  can  read  it  and  we 
ourselves  are  sometimes  confounded. 

All  success  to  great  libraries,  and  skillful  book- 
bindery,  and  exquisite  typography,  and  fine-tinted 


214  Around  the  Tea-table. 

plate  paper,  and  beveled  boards,  and  gilt  edges, 
and  Turkey  morocco !  but  we  are  determined  that 
frescoed  alcoves  shall  not  lord  it  over  common 
shelves,  and  Russia  binding  shall  not  overrule 
sheepskin,  and  that  "full  calf"  shall  not  look 
down  on  pasteboard.  We  war  not  against  great 
libraries.  We  only  plead  for  the  better  use  of 
small  ones. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 
REFORMATION  IX  LETTER-WRITING. 

We  congratulate  the  country  on  the  revolution 
in  epistolary  correspondence.  Through  postal 
cards  we  not  only  come  to  economy  in  stamps, 
and  paper,  and  ink,  and  envelopes,  but  to  edu- 
cation in  brevity.  As  soon  as  men  and  women 
get  facility  in  composition  they  are  tempted  to 
prolixity.  Hence  some  of  us  formed  the  habit 
of  beginning  to  read  a  letter  on  the  second  page, 
because  we  knew  that  the  writer  would  not  get 
a-going  before  that ;  and  then  we  were  apt  to  stop 
a  page  or  two  before  the  close,  knowing  that  the 
remaining  portions  would  be  taken  in  putting 
down  the  brakes. 

The  postal  card  is  a  national  deliverance. 
Without  the  conventional  "I  take  my  pen  in 
hand,  "  or  other  rigmarole — which  being  trans- 
lated means,  "I  am  not  quite  ready  to  begin  just 
now,  but  will  very  soon" — the  writer  states  di- 
rectly, and  in  ten  or  twenty  words,  all  his  business. 

While  no  one  can  possibly  have  keener  appre- 
ciation than  we  of  letters  of  sympathy,  encour- 
agement and  good  cheer,  there  is  a  vast  amount 
of  letter- writing  that  amounts  to  nothing.  Some 
of  them  we  carry  in  our  pockets,  and  read  over 
and  over  again,  until  they  are  worn  out  with 
handling.  But  we  average  about  twenty  begging 
letters  a  day.  They  are  always  long,  the  first  page 
taken  up  in  congratulations  upon  "big  heart," 
"wide  influence,"  "Christian  sympathies,"  and 
so  on,  winding  up  with  a  solicitation  for  five 
dollars,  more  or  less.  We  always  know  from  the 
amount  of  lather  put  on  that  we  are  going  to  be 

215 


2i6  Around  the  Tea-table. 

shaved.  The  postal  card  will  soon  invade  even  that 
verbosity,  and  the  correspondent  will  simply  say, 
''Poor — very — children  ten — chills  and  fever  my- 
self— no  quinine — desperate — your  money  or  your 
life-Bartholomew  Wiggins,  Dismal  Swamp,  la. ' ' 

The  advantage  of  such  a  thing  is  that  if  you  da 
not  answer  such  a  letter  no  offence  is  taken,  it  is 
so  short  and  costs  only  a  cent ;  whereas,  if  the 
author  had  taken  a  great  sheet  of  letter  paper, 
tilled  it  with  compliments  and  graceful  solicita- 
tions, folded  it,  and  run  the  gummed  edge  along^ 
the  lips  at  the  risk  of  being  poisoned,  and  stuck 
on  a  stamp  (after  tedious  examination  of  it  to  see 
whether  or  not  it  had  been  used  before,  or  had 
only  been  mauled  in  your  vest  pocket),  the 
offence  would  have  been  mortal,  and  you  would 
have  been  pronounced  mean  and  unfit  for  the 
ministry. 

Postal  cards  are  likewise  a  relief  to  that  large 
class  of  persons  who  by  sealed  envelope  are  roused 
to  inquisitiveness.  As  such  a  closed  letter  lies  on 
the  mantel-piece  unopened,  they  wonder  whom  it 
is  from,  and  what  is  in  it,  and  they  hold  it  up 
between  them  and  the  light  to  see  what  are  the 
indications,  and  stand  close  by  and  look  over  your 
shoulder  while  you  read  it,  and  decipher  from 
your  looks  whether  it  is  a  love-letter  or  a  dun. 
The  postal  card  is  immediate  relief  to  them,  for 
they  can  read  for  themselves,  and  can  pick  up 
information  on   various  subjects  free  of  charge. 

But,  after  all,  the  great  advantage  of  this  ncAv 
postal  arrangement  is  economy  in  the  consump- 
tion of  time.  It  will  practically  add  several  years 
to  a  man's  life,  and  will  keep  us  a  thousand 
times,  at  the  beginning  of  our  letters,  from  say- 
ing "Dear  Sir"  to  those  who  are  not  at  all  dear, 
and  will  save  us  from  surrendering  ourselves  with 
a  "Yours,  truly, ' '  to  those  to  whom  we  will  never 
belong.  We  hail  the  advent  of  the  postal-card 
svstem. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 
ROYAL  MARRIAGES. 

There  has  lately  been  such  a  jingle  of  bells  in 
St.  Petersburg  and  London  that  \ve  have  heard 
them  quite  across  the  sea.  The  queen's  son  has 
married  the  daughter  of  the  Russian  emperor. 
We  are  glad  of  it.  It  is  always  well  to  have  peo- 
ple marry  who  are  on  the  same  level.  The  fa- 
mous afnancing  in  New  York  of  a  coachman  with 
the  daughter  of  the  millionaire  who  employed 
him  did  not  turn  out  well.  It  was  bad  for  her, 
but  worse  for  the  coachman.  Eagle  and  ox  are 
both  well  in  their  places,  but  let  them  not  marry. 
The  ox  would  be  dizzy  in  the  eyrie,  and  the 
eagle  ill  at  home  in  the  barnyard.  When  the 
children  of  two  royal  homes  are  united,  there 
ought  be  no  begrudging  of  powder  for  the  can- 
nonading, or  of  candles  for  the  illumination. 
All  joy  to  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh  and  his  fortu- 
nate duchess. 

But  let  not  our  friends  across  the  sea  imagine 
that  we  have  no  royal  marriages  here  in  this 
western  wilderness.  Whenever  two  hearts  come 
together  pledged  to  make  each  other  happy,  bind- 
ing all  their  hopes  and  fears  and  anticipations  in 
one  sheaf,  calling  on  God  to  bless  and  angels  to 
witness,  though  no  organ  may  sound  the  wedding- 
march,  and  no  bells  may  chime,  and  no  Dean  of 
Westminster  travel  a  thousand  miles  to  pronounce 
the  ceremony, — that  is  a  royal  marriage. 

When  two  young  people  start  out  on  life 
together  with  nothing  but  a  determination  to 
succeed,  avoiding  the  invasion  of  each  other's 
idiosyncrasies,  not  carrying  the  candle  near  the 
gunpowder,  sympathetic  with  each  other's  em- 
217 


21 8  Around  the  Tea-table. 

ployment,  willing  to  live  on  email  means  till  they 
get  large  facilities,  paying  as  they  go,  taking  life 
here  as  a  discipline,  with  four  eyes  watching  its 
perils,  and  with  four  hands  fighting  its  battles, 
whatever  others  may  say  or  do, — that  is  a  royal 
marriage.  It  is  so  set  down  in  the  heavenly  ar- 
chives, and  the  orange  blossoms  shall  wither  on 
neithe.'  side  the  grave. 

We  deplore  the  fact  that  because  of  the  fearful 
extravagances  of  modern  society  many  of  our  best 
people  conclude  that  they  cannot  possibly  afi"ord 
to  marry. 

We  are  getting  a  fearful  crop  of  old  bachelors. 
They  swarm  around  us.  They  go  through  life  lop- 
sided. Half  dressed,  they  s'it  round  cold  morn- 
ings, all  a-shiver,  sewing  on  buttons  and  darning 
socks,  and  then  go  down  to  a  long  boarding-house 
table  which  is  bounded  on  the  north  and  south 
and  east  and  west  by  the  Great  Sahara  Desert. 
We  do  not  pity  them  at  all.  May  all  their  but- 
tons be  off  to-morrow  morning!  Why  do  they 
not  set  up  a  i^lain  home  of  their  own'  and  come 
into  the  ark  two  and  two? 

The  supporting  of  a  wife  is  looked  upon  as  a 
great  horror.  Why,  dear  friends,  with  right  and 
healthy  notions  of  time  and  eternity  it  is  very 
easy  to  support  a  wife  if  she  be  of  the  kind 
worth  supporting.  If  she  be  educated  into  false 
notions  of  refinement  and  have  "young  ladies' 
institutes"  piled  on  her  head  till  she  be  imbecile, 
you  will  never  be  able  to  support  her.  Every- 
thing depends  on  whether  you  take  for  your  wife 
a  woman  or  a  doll-baby.  Our  opinion  is  that 
three-fourths  the  successful  men  of  the  day  owe 
much  of  their  prosperity  to  the  wife's  help. 
The  load  of  life  is  so  heavy  it  takes  a  team  of 
two  to  draw  it.  The  ship  wants  not  only  a  caj)- 
tain,  but  a  first  mate.  Society  to-day,  trans- 
Atlantic  and  cis-Atlantic,  very  much  needs  more 
roval  marriages. 


CHAPTER  L. 
THREE  VISITS. 

Yesterday  was  Saturday  to  you,  but  it  was  Sun- 
day to  me.  In  other  words,  it  was  a  day  of  rest. 
We  cannot  always  be  working.  If  you  drive  along 
in  a  deep  rut,  and  then  try  to  turn  off,  you  are 
very  apt  to  break  the  shafts.  A  skillful  driver  is 
careful  not  to  get  into  a  deep  rut.  You  cannot 
always  be  keeping  on  in  the  same  way.  We  must 
have  times  of  leisure  and  recreation. 

A  great  deal  of  Christian  work  amounts  to  noth- 
ing, from  the  fact  that'  it  is  not  prefaced  and 
appendixed  by  recreation.  Better  take  hold  of  a 
hammer  and  give  one  strong  stroke  and  lay  it 
down  than  to  be  all  the  time  so  fagged  out  that 
we  cannot  move  the  hammer. 

Well,  yesterday  being  a  day  of  rest  to  me,  I 
made  three  visits  in  New  York. 

The  first  was  to  the  Tombs — an  institution 
seemingly  full  now,  a  man  or  woman  or  boy  at 
every  wicket.  A  great  congregation  of  burglars, 
thieves,  pickpockets  and  murderers.  For  the 
most  part,  they  are  the  clumsy  villains  of  society ; 
the  nimble,  spry  ones  get  out  of  the  way,  and  are 
not  caught.  There  are  those  who  are  agile  as 
well  as  depraved  in  that  dark  place.  Stokes,  rep- 
resenting the  aristocracy  of  crime;  Foster,  the 
democracy  of  sin ;  and  Rozensweig,  the  brute. 
Each  cell  a  commentary  upon  the  Scripture 
passage,  "The  way  of  the  transgressor  is 
hard. ' ' 

I  was  amazed  to  see  that  the  youth  are  in  the 
majority  in  that  building.  I  said  to  the  turnkey  : 
' '  What  a  pity  it  is  that  that  bright  fellow   is  in 

219 


220  Around  the  Tea-table. 

here!"  ''Oh,"  he  says,  "these  bright  fellows 
keep  us  busy."  I  talked  some  with  the  boys, 
and  they  laughed ;  but  there  was  a  catch  in  the 
guffaw,  as  though  the  laughter  on  its  way  had 
stumbled  over  a  groan.  It  was  not  a  deep  laugh 
and  a  laugh  all  over,  as  boys  generally  do  when 
they  are  merry.  These  boys  have  had  no  chance. 
They  have  been  in  the  school  of  crime  all  their 
days,  and  are  now  only  taking  their  degree  of 
* '  M.  V. ' ' — master  of  villainy. 

God  hasten  the  time  when  our  Sabbath-schools, 
instead  of  being  tlower-pots  for  a  few  choice 
children,  shall  gather  up  the  perishing  rabble 
outside,  like  Ralph  Wells'  school  in  New  York, 
and  Father  Hawley's  school  in  Hartford,  and 
John  Wanamaker's  school  in  Philadelphia!  There 
is  not  much  chance  in  our  fashionable  Sunday- 
schools  for  a  boy  out  at  the  elbows.  Many  of 
our  schools  pride  themselves  on  being  gilt-edged ; 
and  when  we  go  out  to  fulfill  the  Saviour's  com- 
mand, "Feed  my  lambs,  "  we  look  out  chiefly 
for  white  fleeces.  I  like  that  school  the  best 
which,  in  addition  to  the  glorious  gospel,  carries 
soap  and  fine-tooth  combs.  God  save  the  dying 
children  of  the  street!  I  saw  a  child  in  the 
Tombs  four  years  of  age,  and  said,  "What  in  the 
world  can  this  little  child  be  doing  here?"  They 
told  me  the  father  had  been  arrested  and  the 
child  had  to  go  with  him.  Allegory,  parable, 
prophecy:  "Where  the  father  goes  the  child 
goes."  Father  inside  the  grates,  and  son  outside 
waiting  to  get  in. 

All  through  the  corridors  of  that  prison  I  saw 
Scripture  passages:  "I  am  the  way  of  life;" 
"Believe  in  the  Lord,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved;" 
and  like  passages.  Who  placed  them  there? 
The  turnkey?  No.  The  sherifi"?  No.  They  are 
marks  left  by  the  city  missionary  and  Christian 
philanthropist  in  recognition  of  "^that  go&pel  by 


Three  Visits.  •       221 

which  the  world  is  to  be  regenerated  or  never 
saved  at  all. 

I  wish  they  would  get  some  other  name  for 
that — the  Tombs — for  it  is  the  cleanest  prison  I 
ever  saw.  But  the  great  want  of  that  prison  and 
of  all  others  is  sunshine.  God's  light  is  a  puri- 
fier. You  cannot  expect  reformation  where  you 
brood  over  a  man  with  perpetual  midnight.  Oh 
that  some  Howard  or  Elizabeth  Fry  would  cry 
through  all  the  dungeons  of  the  earth,  "Let  there 
be  light ! "  I  never  heard  of  anybody  being 
brought  to  God  or  reformed  through  darkness. 
God  Himself  is  light,  and  that  which  is  most  like 
God  is  most  healthful  and  pure. 

Saddened  by  this  awful  wreck  of  men  and 
morals,  we  came  along  the  corridors  where  the 
wives  stood  weeping  at  the  wicket-door  of  their 
husbands,  and  parents  over  their  lost  children. 
It  was  a  very  sad  place.  There  were  some  men  I 
was  surprised  to  find  there — men  whom  I  had 
seen  in  other  places,  in  holy  places,  in  conse- 
crated places. 

We  came  out  into  the  sunlight  after  that,  and 
found  ourselves  very  soon  in  the  art-gallery  at 
Twenty-third  street.  That  was  my  second  visit. 
Mr.  Kensett,  the  great  artist,  recently  died,  and 
six  hundred  and  fifty  of  his  pictures  are  now  on 
exhibition.  In  contrast  with  the  dark  prison 
scene,  how  beautiful  the  canvas !  ]\Ir.  Kensett 
had  an  irresistible  way  of  calling  trees  and  rocks 
and  waters  into  his  pictures.  He  only  beckoned 
and  they  came.  Once  come,  he  pinioned  them 
for  ever.  Why,  that  man  could  paint  a  breeze 
on  the  water,  so  it  almost  wet  your  face  with  the 
spray.  So  restful  are  his  pictures  you  feel  after 
seeing  them  as  though  for  half  a  clay  you  had 
been  sprawled  under  a  tree  in  July  weather,  sum- 
mered through  and  through. 

Thirty  of  such  pictures  he  painted  each  year  in 


222  Around  the  Tea-table. 

one  hundred  and  twenty  days,  and  then  died — 
quickly  and  unwarned,  dropping  his  magician's 
wand,  to  be  picked  up  never.  I  wondered  if  he 
was  ready,  and  if  the  God  whom  he  had  often 
met  amid  the  moss  on  the  sea-cliffs  and  in  the 
offing  was  the  God  who  pardoned  sin  and  by  His 
grace  saves  painter  and  boor.  The  Lord  bless  the 
unappreciated  artists ;  they  do  a  glorious  work  for 
God  and  the  world,  but  for  the  most  part  live  in 
penury,  and  the  brightest  color  on  their  palette 
is  crimson  w^ith  their  own  blood. 

May  the  time  hasten  when  the  Frenchmen  who 
put  on  canvas  their  Cupids  poorly  clad,  and  the 
Germans  who  hang  up  homely  Dutch  babies  in 
the  arms  of  the  Virgin  Mary  and  call  them  Ma- 
donnas, shall  be  overruled  "^by  the  artists  who, 
like  Kensett,  make  their  canvas  a  psalm  of  praise 
to  the  Lord  of  the  winds  and  the  waters! 

I  stepped  across  the  way  into  the  Young  Men's 
Christian  Association  of  Xew  York,  with  its 
reading-rooms  and  library  and  gymnasium  and 
bath-rooms,  all  means  of  graee — a  place  that  pro- 
poses to  charm  young  men  from  places  of  sin  by 
making  religion  attractive.  It  is  a  palace  for  the 
Lord — the  pride  of  New  Y'ork,  or  ought  to  be ;  I 
do  not  believe  it  really  is,  but  it  ought  to  be.  It 
is  tifty  churches  with  its  arms  of  Christian  use- 
fulness stretched  out  toward  the  young  men. 

If  a  young  man  come  in  mentally  worn  out, 
it  gives  him  dumb-bells,  parallel  bars  and  a  bowl- 
ing-alley with  no  rum  at  either  end  of  it.  K 
physically  worsted,  it  rests  him  amid  pictures 
and  books  and  newspapers.  If  a  young  man  come 
in  wanting  something  for  the  soul,  there  are  the 
Bible-classes,  prayer-meetings  and  preaching  of 
the  gospel. 

Religion  wears  no  monk's  cowl  in  that  place, 
no  hair  shirt,  no  spiked  sandals,  but  the  floor  and 
the  ceiling  and  the  lounges  and  the  tables  and  the 


Three  Visits.  223 

cheerful  attendants  seem  to  say  :  * '  Her  ways  are 
ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  her  paths  are  peace. ' ' 

1  never  saw  a  more  beautiful  scene  in  any  pub- 
lic building  than  on  one  of  these  bright  sofas,  fit 
for  any  parlor  in  New  York,  where  lay  a  weary, 
plain,  exhausted  man  resting — sound  asleep. 

Another  triumph  of  Christianity  that  building 
is — a  Christianity  that  is  erecting  lighthouses  on 
all  the  coasts,  and  planting  its  batteries  on  every 
hill-top,  and  spreading  its  banquets  all  the  world 
over. 

Well,  with  these  reflections  I  started  for  Brook- 
lyn. It  was  just  after  six  o'clock,  and  tired  New 
"^ork  was  going  home.  Street  cars  and  ferries 
all  crowded.  Going  home !  Some  to  bright  places, 
to  be  lovingly  greeted  and  warmed  and  fed  and 
rested.  Others  to  places  dark  and  uncomely ;  but 
as  I  sat  down  in  my  own  home  I  could  not 
help  thinking  of  the  three  spectacles.  I  had  seen 
during  the  day  Sin,  in  its  shame;  Art,  in  its 
beauty ;  Religion,  in  its  work  of  love.  God  give 
repentance  to  the  first,  wider  appreciation  to  the 
second*,  and  universal  conquest  to  the  third ! 


CHAPTER  LI. 
MANAHACHTAXIEXKS. 

We  should  like  to  tell  so  many  of  our  readers 
as  have  survived  the  pronunciation  of  the  above 
word  that  the  Indians  first  called  the  site  on 
which  Xew  York  was  built  Manahachtanienks. 
The  translation  of  it  is,  "The  place  where  they 
all  got  drunk. ' '  Most  uncomplimentary  title"; 
we  are  glad  that  it  has  been  changed  ;  for  though 
xsew  York  has  several  thousand  unlicensed  grog- 
shops, we  consider  the  name  inappropriate,  al- 
though, if  intemperance  continues  to  increase  as 
rapidly  for  the  next  hundred  years  as  during  the 
last  twenty  years,  the  time  will  come  when  New 
York  may  appropriately  take  its  old  Indian  no- 
menclature. 

Old-time  New  York  is  being  rapidly  forgotten, 
and  it  may  be  well  to  revive  some  historical  facts. 
At  an  expense  of  three  thousand  dollars  a  year 
men  with  guide-book  in  hand  go  through  the 
pyramids  of  Eg>'pt  and  the  picture-galleries  of 
Eome  and  the  ruins  of  Pompeii,  when  they  have 
never  seen  the  strange  and  historical  scenes  at 
home. 

We  advise  the  people  who  live  in  Brooklyn, 
Jersey  City  and  up-town  New  York  to  go  on  an 
exploration. 

Go  to  No.  1  Broadway  and  remember  that 
George  Washington  and  Lord  Cornwall  is  once 
lived  there. 

Go  to  the  United  States  Treasury,  on  Wall 
street,  and  remember  that  in  front  of  it  used  to 
stand  a  pillory  and  a  whipping-post. 

In  a  building  that  stood  where  the  United  States 

224 


Manahachtanieyiks.  225 

Treasury  stands,  General  Washington  was  installed 
as  Presiclent.  In  the  open  balcony  he  stood  with 
silver  buckles  and  powdered  hair,  in  dress  of  dark 
silk  velvet.  (People  in  those  days  dressed  more 
than  we  moderns.  Think  of  James  Buchanan  or 
General  Grant  inaugurated  with  hair  and  shoes 
tixed  up  like  that ! ) 

Go  to  the  corner  of  Pearl  and  Broad  streets,  and 
remember  that  was  the  scene  of  Washington's 
farewell  to  the  officers  with  whom  he  had  been 
so  long  associated. 

Go  to  Canal  street,  and  remember  it  was  so 
called  because  it  once  was  literally  a  canal. 

The  electric  telegraph  was  born  in  the  steeple 
of  the  old  Dutch  Church,  now  the  New  York  post- 
office — that  is,  Benjamin  Franklin  made  there 
his  first  experiments  in  electricity.  When  the 
other  denominations  charge  the  Dutch  Church 
with  being  slow,  they  do  not  know  that  the 
world  got  its  lightning  out  of  one  of  its  church 
steeples. 

Washington  Irving  was  born  in  William  street, 
halfway  between  John  and  Fulton.  "Knicker- 
bocker" was  considered  very  saucy;  but  if  any 
man  ever  had  a  right  to  say  mirthful  things  about 
Xew  York,  it  was  Washington  Irving,  who  was 
born  there.  At  the  corner  of  Varick  and  Charl- 
ton streets  was  a  house  in  which  Washington, 
John  Adams  and  Aaron  Burr  resided. 

George  Whitfield  preached  at  the  corner  of 
Beekman  and  Nassau  streets. 

But  why  particularize,  when  there  is  not  a  block 
or  a  house  on   the  great   thoroughfare  which  has  ■ 
not  been  the  scene  of  a  tragedy,  a  fortune  ruined, 
a  reputation  sacrificed,  an   agony  sufi'ered   or  a 
soul  lost? 


CHAPTER  LII. 
A  DIP  IN  THE  SEA. 

Shakespeare  has  been  fiercely  mauled  by  the 
critics  for  confusion  of  metaphor  in  speaking  of 
taking  up  "arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles.  "  The 
smart  fellows  say,  How  could  a  man  take  "arms 
against  a  sea?"  In  other  words,  it  is  not  possi- 
ble to  shoot  the  Pacific  Ocean.  But  what  Shake- 
speare suggests  is,  this  jocund  morning,  being 
done  all  around  the  coast  from  Florida  to  New- 
foundland, especial  regiments  going  out  from  Cape 
May,  Long  Branch,  East  Hampton,  Newport  and 
Nahant ;  ten  thousand  bathers,  with  hands  thrown 
into  the  air,  "taking  up  arms  against  the  sea." 
Btit  the  old  giant  has  only  to  roll  over  once  on 
his  bed  of  seaweed,  and  all  this  attacking  host 
are  fiang  prostrate  upon  the  beach. 

The  sensation  of  sea-bathing  is  about  the  same 
everywhere.  First  you  have  the  work  of  putting 
on  tiie  appropriate  dress,  sometimes  wet  and  chill 
from  the  previous  bathing.  You  get  into  the 
garments  cautiously,  touching  them  at  as  few 
I)oints  as  possible,  your  face  askew,  and  with  a 
swift  draft  of  breath  through  your  front  teeth, 
punctuating  the  final  lodgment  of  each  sleeve  and 
fold  with  a  spasmodic  "Oh!"  Then,  having 
placed  your  watch  where  no  villainous  straggler 
may  be  induced  to  examine  it  to  see  whether  he 
can  get  to  the  depot  in  time  for  the  next  train, 
you  issue  forth  ingloriously,  your  head  down  in 
consciousness  that  you  are  cutting  a  sorry  figure 
before  the  world.  Barefoot  as  a  mendicant,  your 
hair  disheveled  in  the  wind,  the  stripes  of  your 
clothes   strongly   suggestive  of    Sing    Sing,    your 

226 


A  Dip  in  the  Sea.  227 

appearance  a  caricature  of  humankind,  you  wan- 
der up  and  down  the  beach  a  creature'  that  the 
land  is  evidently  trying  to  shake  ofi"  and  the  sea 
is  unwilling  to 'take.  But  you  are  consoled  by 
the  fact  that  all  the  rest  are  as  mean  and  forlorn- 
looking  as  yourself;  and  so  you  wade  in,  over 
foot-top,  unto  the  knee,  and  waist  deep.  The 
water  is  icy- cold,  so  that  your  teeth  chatter  and 
your  frame  quakes,  until  you  make  a  bold  dive; 
and  in  a  moment  you  and  the  sea  are  good  friends, 
and  you  are  not  certain  whether  you  have  sur- 
rendered to  the  ocean  or  the  ocean  has  surren- 
dered to  you. 

At  this  point  begin  the  raptures  of  bathing. 
You  have  left  the  world  on  the  beach,  and  are 
caught  up  in  the  arms  of  experiences  that  you 
never  feel  on  land.  If  you  are  far  enough  out, 
the  breaking  w^ave  curves  over  you  like  a  roof 
inlaid  and  prismatic,  bending  down  on  the  other 
side  of  you  in  layers  of  chalk  and  drifts  of 
snow,  and  the  lightning  flash  of  the  foam  ends 
in  the  thunder  of  the  falling  wave.  You  fling 
aside  from  your  arms,  as  worthless,  amethyst  and 
emerald  and  chrysoprase.  Your  ears  are  filled 
with  the  halo  of  sporting  elements,  and  your 
eyes  with  all  tints  and  tinges  and  double-dyes 
and  liquid  emblazonment.  You  leap  and  shout 
and  clap  your  hands,  and  tell  the  billows  to  come 
on,  and  in  excess  of  glee  greet  persons  that  you 
never  saw  before  and  never  will  again,  and  never 
want  to,  and  act  so  wildly  that  others  would 
think  you  demented  but  that  they  also  are  as 
fully  let  loose ;  so  that  if  there  be  one  imbecile 
there  is  a  whole  asylum  of  lunatics. 

It  is  astonishing  how  many  sounds  mingle  in 
the  water:  the  faint  squall  of  the  afi'righted  child, 
the  shrill  shriek  of  the  lady  just  introduced  to 
the  uproarious  hilarities,  the  souse  of  the  diver, 
the  snort  of  the  half -strangled,  the  clear  giggle  of 


228  Around  the  Tea-table. 

maidens,  the  hoarse  bellow  of  swamped  obesity, 
the  whine  of  the  convalescent  invalid,  the  yell  of 
unmixed  delight,  the  te-hee  and  squeak  of  the 
city  exquisite  learning  how. to  laugh  out  loud, 
the  splash  of  the  brine,  the  cachinnation  of  a 
band  of  harmless  savages,  the  stun  of  the  surge 
on  your  right  ear,  the  hiss  of  the  surf,  the  satur- 
nalia of  the  elements ;  while  overpowering  all 
other  sounds  are  the  orchestral  harmonies  of  the 
sea,  which  roll  on  through  the  ages,  all  shells, 
all  winds,  all  caverns,  all  billows  heard  in  "the 
oratorio  of  the  creation.  " 

But  while  bathing,  the  ludicrous  will  often 
break  through  the  grand.  Swept  hither  and 
thither,  you  find,  moving  in  reel  and  cotillon,* 
saraband  and  rigadoon  and  hornpipe,  Quakers 
and  Presbyterians  who  are  down  on  the  dance. 
Your  sparse  clothing  feels  the  stress  of  the  waves, 
and  you  think  what  an  awful  thing  it  would  be 
if  the  girdle  should  burst  or  a  button  break,  and 
you  should  have,  out  of  respect  to  the  feelings 
of  others,  to  go  up  the  beach  sidewise  or  back- 
ward or  on  your  hands  and  knees. 

Close  beside  you,  in  the  surf,  is  a  judge  of  the 
Court  of  Appeals,  with  a  garment  on  that  looks 
like  his  grandmother's  night-gown  just  lifted 
from  the  wash-tub  and  not  yet  wrung  out.  On 
the  other  side  is  a  maiden  with  a  twenty-five- 
cent  straw  hat  on  a  head  that  ordinarily  sports  a 
hundred  dollars'  worth  of  millinery.  Yonder 
is  a  doctor  of  divinity  with  his  head  in  the  sand 
and  his  feet  beating  the  air,  traveling  heavenward, 
while  his  right  hand  clutches  his  wife's  foot,  as 
much  as  to  say,  ''My  feet  are  useless  in  this 
emergency ;  give  me  the  benefit  of  yours. ' ' 

Now  a  stronger  wave,  for  which  none  are  ready, 
dashes  in,  and  with  it  tumble  ashore,  in  one 
great  wreck  of  humanity,  small  craft  and  large, 
stout  hulk  and  swift  clipper,  helm  first,  topsail 


A  Dip  in  the  Sea.  229 

down,  forestay-sail  in  tatters,  keel  up,  everything 
gone  to  pieces  in  the  swash  of  the  surges. 

Oh,  the  glee  of  sea-bathing!  It  rouses  the  ap- 
athetic. _  It  upsets  the  supercilious  and  pragmati- 
cal. It  is  balsamic  for  mental  wounds.  It  is  a 
tonic  for  those  who  need  strength,  and  an  ano- 
dyne for  those  who  require  soothing,  and  a  febri- 
fuge for  those  who  want  their  blood  cooled ;  a 
filling  up  for  minds  pumped  dry,  a  breviary  for 
the  superstitious  with  endless  matins  and  vespers, 
and  to  the  Christian  an  apocalyptic  vision  where 
the  morning  sun  gilds  the  waters,  and  there  is 
spread  before  him  '*a  sea  of  glass  mingled  with 
fire."  ''Thy  way,  0  God,  is  in  the  sea,  and  thy 
path  in  the  great  waters ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  LIII. 
HARD  SHELL  COXSIDERATIONS. 

The  plumage  of  the  robin  redbreast,  the  mottled 
sides  of  the  Saranac  trout,  the  upholstery  of  a 
spider's  web,  the  waist  of  the  wasp  fashionably- 
small  without  tight  lacing,  the  lustrous  eye  of 
the  gazelle,  the  ganglia  of  the  star-fish,  have 
been  discoursed  upon ;  but  it  is  left  to  us,  fagged 
out  from  a  long  ramble,  to  sit  down  on  a  log  and 
celebrate  the  admirable  qualities  of  a  turtle. 
We  refer  not  to  the  curious  architecture  of  its 
house — ribbed,  plated,  jointed,  carapace  and  plas- 
tron divinely  fashioned — but  to  its  instincts, 
worthy  almost  of  being  called  mental  and  moral 
qualities. 

The  tortoise  is  wiser  than  many  people  we  wot 
of,  in  the  fact  that  he  knows  when  to  keep  his 
head  in  his  shell.  No  sooner  did  we  just  now 
appear  on  the  edge  of  the  wood  than  this  animal 
of  the  order  Testudinata  modestly  withdrew.  He 
knew  he  Avas  no  match  for  us.  But  how  many  of 
the  human  race  are  in  the  habit  of  projecting 
their  heads  into  things  for  which  they  have  no 
fittedness  I  They  thrust  themselves  into  discus- 
sions where  they  are  almost  sure  to  get  trod  on. 
They  will  dispute  about  vertebr?e  with  Cuvier, 
or  metaphysics  with  William  Hamilton,  or  paint- 
ings with  Ruskin,  or  medicine  with  Doctor  Rush, 
and  attempt  to  sting  Professor  Jaeger  to  death 
with  his  own  insects.  The  first  and  last  impor- 
tant lesson  for  such  persons  to  learn  is,  like  this 
animal  at  our  foot,  to  shut  up  their  shell.  If  they 
could  see  how,  in  the  case  of  this  roadside  tor- 
toise, at    our  appearance    the  carapace  suddenly 

230 


Hard  Shell  Considerations.  231 

came  down  on  the  plastron,  or,  in  other  words, 
how  the  upper  bone  snapped  against  the  lower 
bone,  they  might  become  as  wise  as  this  reptile. 

We  admire  also  the  turtle's  capacity  of  being  at 
home  everywhere.  He  carries  with  him  his  par- 
lor, nursery,  kitchen,  bed-chamber  and  bath- 
room. Would  that  we  all  had  an  equal  faculty  of 
domestication !  In  such  a  beautiful  world,  and 
with  so  many  comfortable  surroundings,  we  ought 
to  feel  at  home  in  any  place  we  are  called  to  be. 
While  we  cannot,  like  the  tortoise,  carry  our  house 
on  our  back,  we  are  better  off  than  he,  for  by  the 
right  culture  of  a  contented  spirit  we  may  make 
the  sky  itself  the  mottled  shell  of  our  residence, 
and  the  horizon  all  around  us  shall  be  the  place 
where  the  carapace  shuts  down  on  the  plastron. 

We  admire  still  more  the  tortoise's  determina- 
tion to  right  itself.  By  way  of  experiment,  turn 
it  upside  down,  and  then  go  off  a  piece  to  see  it 
regain  its  position.  Xow,  there  is  nothing  when 
put  upon  its  back  which  has  such  little  prospect 
of  getting  to  its  feet  again  as  this  animal.  It 
has  no  hands  to  push  with  and  nothing  against 
which  to  brace  its  feet,  and  one  would  think  that 
a  turtle  once  upside  down  would  l>e  upside  down 
for  ever.  But  put  on  its  back,  it  keeps  on  scrab- 
bling till  it  is  right  side  up.  We  would  like  to 
pick  up  this  animal  from  the  dust  and  put  it  down 
on  Broadway,  if  men  passing  by  would  learn 
from  it  never  to  stop  exertion,  even  when  over- 
thrown. You  cannot  by  commercial  disasters  be 
more  thoroughly  flat  on  your  back  than  five  min- 
utes ago  was  this  poor  thing;  but  see  it  yonder 
nimbly  making  for  the  bushes.  Yanderbilt  or  Jay 
Gould  may  treat  you  as  we  did  the  tortoise  a  few 
moments  ago.  But  do  not  lie  still,  discouraged. 
Make  an  effoit  to  get  up.  Throw  your  feet  out, 
first  in  one  direction  and  then  in  another. 
Scrabble ! 


232  Around  the  Tea-table. 

We  find  from  this  day's  roadside  observation 
that  the  turtle  uses  its"^head  before  it  does  its 
feet :  in  other  words,  it  looks  around  before  it 
moves.  You  never  catch  a  turtle  doing  anything 
without  previous  careful  inspection.  We  would, 
all  of  us,  do  better  if  we  always  looked  before  we 
leaped.  It  is  easier  to  get  into  trouble  than  to 
get  out.  Better  have  goods  weighed  before  we 
buy  them.  Better  know  where  a  road  comes  out 
before  we  start  on  it.  We  caught  one  hundred 
flies  in  our  sitting-room  yesterday  because  they 
sacrificed  all  their  caution  to  a  love  of  molasses. 
Better  use  your  brain  before  you  do  your  hands 
and  feet.  Before  starting,  the  turtle  always  sticks 
its  head  out  of  its  shell. 

But  tortoises  die.  They  sometimes  last  two 
hundred  years.  We  read  that  one  of  them  out- 
lived seven  bishops.  They  have  a  quiet  life  and 
no  wear  and  tear  upon  their  nervous  system. 
Yet  they,  after  a  while,  notwithstanding  all  their 
slow  travel,  reach  the  end  of  their  journey.  For 
the  last  time  they  draw  their  head  inside  their 
shell  and  shut  out  the  world  for  ever.  But  not- 
withstanding the  useful  thoughts  they  suggest 
while  living,  they  are  of  still  more  worth  when 
dead.  We  fashion  their  bodies  into  soup  and 
their  carapace  into  combs  for  the  hair,  and  tinged 
drops  for  the  ear,  and  bracelets  for  the  wrist. 
One  of  Delmonico's  soup  tureens  is  waiting  for 
the  hero  we  celebrate,  and  Tiffany  for  his  eight 
plates  of  bone.  Will  we  be  as  useful  after  we  are 
dead?  Some  men  are  thrown  aside  like  a  turtle- 
shell  crushed  by  a  cart-wheel;  but  others,  by 
deeds  done  or  words  spoken,  are  useful  long  after 
they  quit  life,  their  example  an  encouragement, 
their  memory  a  banquet.  He  who  helps  build 
an  asylum  or  gives  healthful  and  cultured  start- 
ing to  a  young  man  may  twenty  years  after  his 
decease  be  doing  more  for  the  world  than  during 


Hard  Shell  Considerations.  233 

his  residence  upon  it.  Stephen  Girard  and  George 
Peabody  are  of  more  use  to  the  race  than  when 
Philadelphia  and  London  saw  them. 

But  we  must  get  up  off  this  log,  for  the  ants  are 
crawling  over  us,  and  the  bull -frogs  croak  as 
though  the  night  were  coming  on.  The  evening 
star  hangs  its  lantern  at  the  door  of  the  night  to 
light  the  tired  day  to  rest.  The  wild  roses  in 
the  thicket  are  breathing  vespers  at  an  altar  cush- 
ioned with  moss,  while  the  tire-flies  are  kindling 
their  dim  lamps  in  the  cathedral  of  the  woods. 
The  evening  dew  on  strings  of  fern  is  counting 
its  beads  in  prayer.  The  "Whip-poor-will" 
takes  up  its  notes  of  complaint,  making  us  won- 
der on  our  way  home  what  "Will"  it  was  that 
in  boyhood  maltreated  the  ancestors  of  this  spe- 
cies of  birds,  whether  William  Wordsworth,  or 
William  Cowper,  or  William  Shakspeare,  so  that 
the  feathered  descendants  keep  through  all  the 
forests,  year  after  year,  demanding  for  the  cruel 
perpetrator  a  sound  threshing,  forgetting  the 
Bryant  that  praised  them  and  the  Tennyson  that 
petted  them  and  the  Jean  Ingelow  who  throws 
them  crumbs,  in  their  anxiety  to  have  some  one 
whip  poor  Will. 


CHAPTER   LIV. 
WISEMAN,  HEAVYASBRICKS  AND  QUIZZLE. 

We  had  muffins  that  night.  Indeed,  we  always 
had  either  muffins  or  waffles  when  Governor 
Wiseman  was  at  tea.  The  reason  for  this  choice 
of  food  was  that  a  muffin  or  a  waffle  seemed  just 
suited  to  the  size  of  Wiseman's  paragraphs  of 
conversation.  In  other  words,  a  muthn  lasted  him 
about  as  long  as  any  one  subject  of  discourse; 
and  when  the  muffin  was  done,  the  subject  was 
done. 

We  never  knew  why  he  was  called  governor, 
for  he  certainly  never  ruled  over  any  State,  but 
perhaps  it  was  his  wise  look  that  got  him  the 
name.  He  never  laughed ;  had  his  roupd  spec- 
tacles far  down  on  the  end  of  his  nose,  sc  that  he 
could  see  as  far  into  his  plate  as  any  i  mn  that 
€ver  sat  at  our  tea-table.  When  he'ta  led,  the 
conversation  was  all  on  his  side.  He  c(  iridered 
himself  oracular  on  most  subjects.  You  h  ad  but 
to  ask  him  a  question,  and  without  lifti  ig  his 
head,  his  eye  vibrating  from  fork  to  imffin, 
he  would  go  on  till  he  had  said  all  he  knew  on 
that  theme.  We  did  not  invite  him  to  our  house 
more  than  once  in  about  three  months,  for  too 
much  of  a  good  thing  is  a  bad  thing. 

At  the  same  sitting  we  always  had  our  young 
friend  Fred  Quizzle.  He  did  not  know  much, 
but  he  was  mighty  in  asking  questions.  So  when 
we  had  Governor  Wiseman,  the  well,  we  had 
Quizzle,  the  pump. 

Fred  was  long  and  thin  and  jerky,  and  you 
never  knew  just  where  he  would  put  his  foot. 
Indeed,    he    was  not  certain  himself.      He  was 

234 


Wise77ta7i  and  Quizzle.  "235- 

thoroughly  illogical,  and  the  question  he  asked 
would  sometimes  seem  quite  foreign  to  the  sub- 
ject being  discoursed  upon.  His  legs  were 
crooked  and  reminded  you  of  interrogation  points, 
and  his  arms  were  interrogations,  and  his  neck 
was  an  interrogation,  while  his  eyes  had  a  very 
inquisitive  look. 

Fred  Quizzle  did  not  talk  until  over  two  years 
of  age,  notwithstanding  all  his  parents'  exertions 
toward  getting  him  to  say  ' '  paj)a' '  and  ' '  mamma. ' ' 
After  his  parents  had  made  up  their  minds  that 
he  would  never  talk  at  all^  he  one  day  rose  from 
his  block  houses,  looked  into  his  father's  eyes, 
and  cried  out,  "How?"  as  if  inquiring  in  what 
manner  he  had  found  his  way  into  this  world. 
His  parent,  outraged  at  the  child's  choice  of  an 
adverb  for  his  first  expression  instead  of  a  noun 
masculine  or  a  noun  feminine  indicative  of  filial 
affection,  proceeded  to  chastise  the  youngster, 
when  Fred  Quizzle  cried  out  for  his  second, 
*'Why?"  as  though  inquiring  the  cause  of  such 
hasty  punishment. 

This  early  propensity  for  asking  questions  grew 
on  him  till  at  twenty-three  years  of  age  he  was  a 
prodigy  in  this  respect.  So  when  we  had  Governor 
Wiseman  we  also  had  Fred  Quizzle,  the  former  to 
discourse,  the  latter  to  start  him  and  keep  him 
going. 

Doctor  Heavyasbricks  was  generally  present  at 
the  same  interview.  We  took  the  doctor  as  a  sort 
of  sedative.  After  a  season  of  hard  »\-ork  and 
nervous  excitement.  Doctor  Heavyasbricks  had 
a  quieting  infiuence  upon  us.  There  was  no 
lightning  in  his  disposition.  He  was  a  great 
laugher,  but  never  at  any  recent  merriment.  It 
took  a  long  while  for  him  to  understand  a  joke. 
Indeed,  if  it  were  subtle  or  elaborate,  he  never 
understood  it.  But  give  the  doctor,  when  in 
good  health,  a  plain  pun  or  repartee,  and  let  him 


236  Around  the  Tea-table. 

have  a  day  or  two  to  think  over  it,  and  he  would 
come  in  with  uproarious  merriment  that  well-nigh 
would  choke  him  to  death,  if  the  paroxysm 
happened  to  take  him  with  his  mouth  full  of 
muffins. 

When  at  our  table;  the  time  not  positively 
occupied  in  mastication  he  employed  in  looking 
first  at  Quizzle,  the  interlocutor,  and  then  at 
Governor  Wiseman,  the  responding  oracle. 

Quizzle. — How  have  you,  Governor  Wiseman, 
kept  yourself  in  such  "^robust  health  so  long  a 
time? 

Wiseman. — By  never  trifling  with  it,  sir.  I 
never  eat  muffins  too  hot.  This  one,  you  see, 
has  had  some  time  to  cool.  Besides,  when  I  am 
at  all  disordered,  I  immediately  senS  for  the 
doctor. 

There  are  books  proposing  that  we  all  become 
our  own  medical  attendant.  Whenever  we  are 
seized  with  any  sort  of  physical  disorder,  we  are 
to  take  down  some  volume  in  homeopathy,  allo- 
pathy, hydropathy,  and  running  our  miger  along 
the  index,  alight  upon  the  malady  that  may  be 
afflicting  us.  We  shall  find  in  the  same  page  the 
name  of  the  disease  and  the  remedy.  Thus: 
chapped  hands — glycerine  ;  cold — squills ;  lumbago 
— mustard-plasters ;  nervous  excitement — valer- 
ian ;  sleeplessness — Dover's  powders. 

This  may  be  very  well  for  slight  ailments,  but 
we  have  attended  more  funerals  of  people  who 
were  their  own  doctor  than  obsequies  of  any  other 
sort.  In  your  inexperience  you  will  be  apt  to 
get  the  wrong  remedy.  Look  out  for  the  agricul- 
turist who  farms  by'^book,  neglecting  the  counsel 
of  his  long-experienced  neighbors.  He  will  have 
poor  turnips  and  starveling  wheat,  and  kill  his 
fields  with  undue  apportionments  of  guano  and 
bonedust.  Look  out  just  as  much  for  the  patient 
who    in   the   worship  of  some  "pathy"   blindly 


Wise)}ia7i  and  Quizzle.  237 

adheres  to  a  favorite  hygienic  volume,  rejecting 
in  important  cases  medical  admonition. 

In  ordinary  cases  the  best  doctor  you  can  have 
is  mother  or  grandmother,  who  has  piloted 
through  the  rocks  of  infantile  disease  a  whole 
family.  She  has  salve  for  almost  everything,  and 
knows  how  to  bind  a  wound  or  cool  an  inflamma- 
tion. But  if  mother  be  dead  or  you  are  aflEiicted 
with  a  maternal  ancestor  that  never  knew  any- 
thing practical,  and  never  ill,  better  in  severe 
cases  have  the  doctor  right  away.  You  say  that 
it  is  expensive  to  do  that,  while  a  book  on  the 
treatment  of  diseases  will  cost  you  only  a  dollar 
and  a  half.  I  reply  that  in  the  end  it  is  very 
expensive  for  an  inexperienced  man  to  be  his 
own  doctor;  for  in  addition  to  the  price  of  the 
book  there  are  the  undertaker's  expenses. 

Some  of  the  younger  persons  at  the  table 
laughed  at  the  closing  sentence  of  Wiseman, 
when  Doctor  Heavyasbricks  looked  up,  put  down 
his  knife  and  said:  "My  young  friends,  what 
are  you  laughing  at?  I  see  no  cause  of  merri- 
ment in  the  phrase  'undertaker's  expenses.'  It 
seems  to  me  to  be  a  sad  business.  When  I  think 
of  the  scenes  amid  which  an  undertaker  moves,  I 
feel  more  like    tears  than  hilarity.  " 

Quizzle. — If  you  are  opposed,  Governor  Wise- 
man, to  one's  being  his  own  doctor,  what  do  you 
think  of  every  man's  being  his  own  lawyer? 

W»iseman. — I  think  just  as  badly  of  that. 

Books  setting  forth  forms  for  deeds,  mortgages, 
notes,  and  contracts,  are  no  doubt  valuable.  It 
should  be  a  part  of  every  young  man's  education 
to  know  something  of  these.  We  cannot  for  the 
small  business  transactions  of  life  be  hunting  up 
the  ''attorney-at-law"  or  the  village  squire.  But 
economy  in  the  transfer  of  property  or  in  the 
making'  of  wills  is  sometimes  a  permanent  dis- 
aster.    There  are  so  many  .quirks  in  the  law,  so 


238  Aroitnd  the  Tca-tablc. 

many  hiding-places  for  scamps,  so  many  modes 
of  twisting  phraseology,  so  many  decisions, 
precedents  and  rulings,  so  many  John  Does  who 
have  brought  suits  against  Richard  Roes,  that  you 
hud  better  in  all  important  business  matters  seek 
out  an  honest  lawyer. 

''There  are  none  such!"  cries  out  Quizzle. 

Why,  where  have  you  lived?  There  are  as 
many  honest  men  in  the  legal  profession  as  in 
any  other,  and  rogues  more  than  enough  in  all 
professions.  Many  a  farmer,  going  down  to  attend 
court  in  the  county -seat,  takes  a  load  of  produce 
to  the  market,  carefully  putting  the  specked 
apples  at  the  bottom  of  the  barrel,  and  hiding 
among  the  fresh  ones  the  egg  which  some  dis- 
couraged hen  after  five  weeks  of  ''setting"  had 
abandoned,  and  having  secured  the  sale  of  his 
produce  and  lost  his  suit  in  the  "Court  of  Com- 
mon Pleas, ' '  has  come  home  denouncing  the 
scoundrelism  of  attorneys. 

You  shall  find  plenty  of  honest  lawyers  if  you 
really  need  them ;  and  in  matters  involving  large 
interests  you  had  better  employ  them. 

Especially  avoid  the  mistake  of  making  your  own 
' '  last  will  and  testament' '  unless  you  have  great  le- 
gal skillfulness.  Better  leave  no  will  at  all  than  one 
inefficiently  constructed.  The  "Orphans'  Court" 
could  tell  many  a  tragedy  of  property  distributed 
adverse  to  the  intention  of  the  testator.  You  save 
twenty  to  a  hundred  dollars  from  your  counsel  by 
writing  your  own  will,  and  your  heirs  pay  ten 
thousand  dollars  to  lawyers  in  disputes  over  it. 
Perhaps  those  whom  j^ou  have  wished  especially  to 
favor  will  get  the  least  of  your  estate,  and  a  relative 
against  whom  you  always  had  especial  dislike 
will  get  the  most,  and  your  charities  will  be  appor- 
tioned differently  from  what  you  anticipated — a 
hundred  dollars  to  the  Bible  Society,  and  three 
thousand  to  the  ' '  hook  and  ladder  company. ' ' 


W7se7Jia7i  and  Quizzle.  239 

Quizzlc. — Do  you  not  think,  governor  (to  go 
back  to  the  subject  from  which  we  wandered), 
that  your  good  spirits  have  had  much  to  do  with 
your  good  health? 

Wiseman. — No  doubt.  I  see  no  reason  why, 
because  I  am  advancing  in  years,  I  should  become- 
melancholy. 

One  of  the  heartiest  things  I  have  seen  of  late  is 
the  letter  of  Rev.  Dr.  Dowling  as  he  retires  from 
active  work  in  the  ministry.  He  hands  over  his- 
work  to  the  younger  brethren  without  sigh,  or 
groan,  or  regret.  He  sees  the  sun  is  quite  far 
down  in  the  west,  and  he  feels  like  hanging  up- 
his  scythe  in  the  first  apple  tree  he  comes  to. 
Our  opinion  is  that  he  has  made  a  little  mistake 
in  the  time  of  day,  and  that  while  he  thinks  it 
is  about  half -past  five  in  the  afternoon,  it  is  only 
about  three.  I  guess  his  watch  is  out  of  order, 
and  that  he  has  been  led  to  think  it  later  than  it 
really  is.  But  when  we  remember  how  much 
good  he  has  done,  v/e  will  not  begrudge  him  his- 
rest  either  here  or  hereafter. 

At  any  rate,  taking  the  doctor's  cheerful  vale- 
dictory for  a  text,  I  might  preach  a  little  bit  of  a. 
sermon  on  the  best  way  of  getting  old.  Do  not 
be  fretted  because  you  have  to  come  to  spectacles. 
While  glasses  look  premature  on  a  young  man's 
nose,  they  are  an  adornment  on  an  octogenarian's 
face.  Besides  that,  when  your  eyesight  is  poor, 
you  miss  seeing  a  great  many  unpleasant  thinga 
that  youngsters  are  obliged  to  look  at. 

Do  not  be  worried  because  your  ear  is  becom- 
ing dull.  In  that  way  you  escape  being  bored 
with  many  of  the  foolish  things  that  are  said. 
If  the  gates  of  sound  keep  out  some  of  the  music, 
they  also  keep  out  much  of  the  discord.  If  the- 
hair  be  getting  thin,  it  takes  less  time  to  comb 
it,  and  then  it  is  not  all  the  time  falling  down 
over  your  eyes ;  or  if  it  be  getting  w^hite,  I  think 


240  Aroujid  the  Tea-table. 

that  color  is  quite  as  respectable  as  any  other: 
that  is  the  color  of  the  snow,  and  of  the  blossoms, 
iind  of  the  clouds,  and  of  angelic  habiliments. 

Do  not  worry  because  the  time  comes  on  when 
you  must  go  into  the  next  world.  It  is  only  a 
better  room,  with  finer  pictures,  brighter  society 
^nd  sweeter  music.  Robert  McCheyne,  and  John 
Knox,  and  Harriet  Newell,  and  Mrs*.  Hemans,and 
John  Milton,  and  Martin  Luther  will  be  good 
enough  company  for  the  most  of  us.  The  corn- 
shocks  standing  in  the  fields  to-day  will  not  sigh 
dismally  when  the  buskers  leap  over  the  fence, 
and  throwing  their  arms  around  the  stack,  swing 
it  to  the  ground.  It  is  only  to  take  the  golden 
ear  from  the  husk.  Death  to  the  aged  Christian 
is  only  husking-time,  and  then  theload  goes  in 
from  the  frosts  to  the  garner. 

My  congratulations  to  those  who  are  nearly 
done  with  the  nuisances  of  this  world.  Give 
your  staff  to  your  little  grandson  to  ride  horse  on. 
You  are  going  to  be  young  again,  and  you  will 
have  no  need  of  crutches.  May  the  clouds 
around  the  setting  sun  be  golden,  and  such  as  to 
lead  the  ''weather-wise"  to  prophesy  a  clear 
morning! 

Quizzle. — But,  Governor  Wiseman,  does  it  not 
give  you  a  little  uneasiness  in  this  day  of  so  much 
talk  about  cremation  as  to  what  will  become  of 
your  body  after  you  leave  this  sphere? 

At  this'  point  Doctor  Heavyasbricks  wiped  his 
spectacles,  as  though  he  could  not  see  well,  and 
interrupted  the  conversation  by  saying,  "Crema- 
tion! Cremation!  What's  that?"  Sitting  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  I  explained  that  it  was  the 
reduction  of  the  deceased  human  body  through 
fire  into  ashes  to  be  preserved  in  an  urn.  *'Ah! 
ah!"  said  Doctor  Heavyasbricks,  "I  had  the 
idea,  from  the  sound  of  that  word  'cremation, '  it 
must  be  something  connected  with  cream.     I  will 


Wiseman  and  Quizzic.  241 

take  a  little  more  of  that  delicious  bovine  liquid 
in  my  tea,  if  you  please, ' '  said  the  doctor  as  he 
passed  his  cup  toward  the  urn,  adding,  to  the 
lady  of  the  house,  '*I  hope  that  urn  you  have 
your  hand  on  has  nothing  to  do  with  cremation.  " 
This  explanation  having  been  made.  Governor 
Wiseman  proceeded  to  answer  the  question  of 
Quizzle : 

Xo ;  I  have  no  uneasiness  about  my  body  after 
I  have  left  it.  The  idea  you  speak  of  will  never 
be  carried  out.  I  know  that  the  papers  are  ardently 
discussing  whether  or  not  it  will  be  best  to  burn 
the  bodies  of  the  dead,  instead  of  burying  them. 
Scientific  journals  contend  that  our  cemeteries  are 
the  means  of  unhealthy  exhalations,  and  that 
cremation  is  the  only  safe  way  of  disposing  of  the 
departed.  Some  have  advocated  the  chemical  re- 
duction of  the  physical  system. 

I  have,  as  yet,  been  unable  to  throw  myself 
into  a  mood  sufficiently  scientific  to  appreciate 
this  proposal.  It  seems  to  me  partly  horrible  and 
partly  ludicrous.  I  think  that  the  dead  popula- 
tions of  the  world  are  really  the  most  quiet  and 
unharmful.  They  make  no  war  upon  us,  and  we 
need  make  no  war  upon  them.  I  am  very  certain 
that  all  the  damage  we  shall  ever  do  this  world, 
will  be  while  we  are  animate.  It  is  not  the  dead 
people  that  are  hard  to  manage,  but  the  living. 
Some  whistle  to  keep  their  courage  up  while  going 
along  by  graveyards ;  I  whistle  while  moving 
among  the  wide  awake.  Before  attempting  this 
barbaric  disposal  of  the  human  form  as  a  sanitary 
improvement,  it  would  be  better  to  clear  the 
streets  and  "commons"  of  our  cities  of  their 
pestiferous  surroundings.  Try  your  cremation  on 
the  dogs  and  cats  with  extinct  animation. 

We  think  Greenwood  is  healthier  than  Broad- 
way, and  Laurel  Hill  than  Chestnut  street,  Pero 
la    Chaise    than     Champs    Elysees.     Urns,    with 


242  Around  the  Tea-table. 

ashes  scientifically  prepared,  may  look  ver^  well 
in  Madras  or  Pekin,  but  not  in  a  Christian 
country.  Not  having  been  able  to  shake  off  the 
Bible  notions  about  Christian  burial,  we  adhere 
to  the  mode  that  was  observed  when  devout  men 
carried  Stephen  to  his  burial.  Better  not  come 
around  here  with  your  chemical  apparatus  for  the 
reduction  of  the  human  body.  I  give  fair  warn- 
ing that  if  your  philosoplier  attempts  such  a 
process  on  my  bones,  and  I  am  of  the  same  way 
of  thinking  as  now,  he  will  be  sorry  for  it. 

But  I  have  no  fear  that  I  shall  thus  be  desecrated 
by  my  surviving  friends.  I  have  more  fear  of 
epitaphs.  I  do  not  wonder  that  people  have  some- 
times dictated  the  inscription  on  their  own  tomb- 
stones when  I  see  what  inappropriate  lines  are 
chiseled  on  many  a  slab.  There  needs  to  be  a 
reformation  in  epitaphiology. 

People  often  ask  me  for  appropriate  inscrip- 
tions for  the  graves  of  their  dead.  They  tell  the 
virtues  of  the  father,  or  wife,  or  child,  and  want 
me  to  put  in  compressed  shape  all  that  catalogue 
of  excellences. 

Of  course  I  fail  in  the  attempt.  The  story  of  a 
lifetime  cannot  be  chiseled  by  the  stone-cutter 
on  the  side  of  a  marble  slab.  But  it  is  not  a  rare 
thing  to  go  a  few  months  after  by  the  sacred  spot 
and  find  that  the  bereft  friends,  unable  to  get 
from  others  an  epitaph  sufficiently  eulogistic, 
have  put  their  own  brain  and  heart  to  work  and 
composed  a  rhyme.  Now,  the  most  unfit  sphere 
on  earth  for  an  inexperienced  mind  to  exercise 
the  poetic  faculty  is  in  epitaphiology.  It  does 
very  well  in  copy-books,  but  it  is  most  unfair  to 
blot  the  resting-place  of  the  dead  with  unskilled 
poetic  scribble.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  owners 
of  cemeteries  and  graveyards  should  keep  in  their 
own  hand  the  right  to  refuse  inappropriate  and 
ludicrous  epitaph. 


Wz'sejnan  a?id  Ouizzle.  243 

Nine-tenths  of  those  who  think  they  can  write 
respectable  poetry  are  mistaken.  I  do  not  say 
that  poesy  has  passed  from  the  earth,  but  it  does 
seem  as  if  the  fountain  Hippocrene  had  been 
drained  off  to  run  a  saw-mill.  It  is  safe  to  say 
that  most  of  the  home-made  poetry  of  graveyards 
is  an  offence  to  God  and  man. 

One  would  have  thought  that  the  New  Hamp- 
shire village  would  have  risen  in  mob  to  prevent 
the  inscription  that  was  really  placed  on  one  of 
its  tombstones  descriptive  of  a  man  who  had  lost 
his  life  at  the  foot  of  a  vicious  mare  on  the  way 
to  brook: 

"As  this  man  was  leading  her  to  drink 

She  kick'd  and  kill'd  him  quicker'n  a  wink." 

One  w^ould  have  thought  that  even  conservative 
New  Jersey  would  have  been  in  rebellion  at  a 
child's  epitaph  which  in  a  village  of  that  State 
reads  thus: 

"She  was  not  smart,   she  was  not  fair. 
But  hearts  with  grief  for  her  are  swell  in' ; 

All  empty  stands  her  little  chair: 
She  died  of  eatin'  watermelon." 

Let  not  such  discretions  be  allowed  in  hallowed 
places.  Let  not  poetizers  practice  on  the  tomb- 
stone. My  uniform  advice  to  all  those  who  want 
acceptable  and  suggestive  epitaph  is.  Take  a  pas- 
sage of  Scripture.  That  will  never  wear  out. 
From  generation  to  generation  it  will  bring  down 
upon  all  visitors  a  holy  hush ;  and  if  before  that 
stone  has  crumbled  the  day  comes  for  waking  up 
of  all  the  graveyard  sleepers,  the  very  words 
chiseled  on  the  marble  may  be  the  ones  that  shall 
ring  from  the  trumpet  of  the  archangel. 

While  the  governor  was  buttering  another 
muffin,  and,  according  to  the  dietetic  principle  a 
little  while  ago  announced,  allowing  it  sufficiently 


244  Around  the  Tea-table. 

to  cool  off,  he  continued  the  subject  ah-eady 
opened  by  saying :  I  keep  well  by  allowing  hardly 
anything  to  trouble  me,  and  by  looking  on  the 
bright  side  of  everything.  One  half  of  the  people 
fret  themselves  to  death. 

Four  months  ago  the  air  was  full  of  evil  proph- 
ecies. If  a  man  believed  one  half  he  saw  in  the 
newspapers,  he  must  have  felt  that  this  world 
was  a  failure,  not  paying  more  than  ten  cents  on 
a  dollar.  To  one  good  prophet  like  Isaiah  or 
Ezekiel  w^e  had  a  thousand  Balaams,  each  mounted 
on  his  appropriate  nag. 

First  came  the  fearful  announcement  that  in 
consequence  of  the  financial  depression  we  would 
have  bread-riots  innumerable  and  great  slaughter. 
But  where  have  been  your  riots?  There  was 
here  and  there  a  swinging  of  shillalahs,  and  a 
few  broken  heads  which  would  probably  have  got 
broken  anyhow ;  but  the  men  who  made  the  dis- 
turbance were  found  to  be  lounging  vagabonds 
who  never  worked  even  when  they  had  a  chance. 

Prophecy  was  also  made  that  there  would  be  a 
general  starvation.  We  do  not  believe  that  in  the 
United  States  there  have  been  twenty  sober  people 
famished  in  the  last  year.  Aware  of  the  unusual 
stress  upon  the  poor,  the  hand  of  charity  has 
been  more  active  and  full  than  ever ;  and  though 
many  have  been  denied  their  accustomed  luxuries, 
there  has  been  bread  for  all. 

Weather  prophets  also  promised  us  a  winter  of 
unusual  severity'.  They  knew  it  from  the  amount 
of  investment  the  squirrels  had  made  in  winter 
stock,  and  from  the  superabundance  of  wool  on 
the  sheep's  back,  and  the  lavishness  of  the  dog's 
hair.  Are  the  liars  ready  to  confess  their  fault? 
The  boys  have  found  but  little  chance  to  use  their 
skates,  and  I  think  the  sheep-shearing  of  the 
flocks  on  celestial  pasture-fiekls  must  have  been 
omitted,  judging  from  the  small  amount  of  snowy 


IVisoJian  and  Qiiizzle.  245 

fleece  that  has  fallen  through  the  air.  I  have  not 
had  on  my  big  mittens  but  once  or  twice,  and  my 
long-ago  frost-bitten  left  ear  has  not  demanded 
an  extra  pinching.  To  make  up  for  the  lack  of 
fuel  on  the  hearth,  the  great  brass  handiron  of 
the  sun  has  been  kept  unusually  bright  and  hot. 
And  yesterday  we  heard  the  horn  of  the  south 
wind  telling  that  the  flowery  bands  of  spring 
are  on  the  way  up  from  Florida. 

The  necessity  for  retrenchment  has  blessed  the 
whole  land.  Many  of  us  have  learned  how  to 
make  a  thousand  dollars  do  what  fifteen  hundred 
dollars — 

Quizzle  broke  in  at  the  first  opportunity  and 
said,  "No  doubt,  governor,  it  is  easy  for  you  to 
be  placid,  for  everything  has  gone  v/ell  with  you 
since  you  started  life,  whereas  my  mother  died 
when  I  was  little,  and  I  was  kicked  and  cuff"ed 
about  by  a  step-mother  whose  name  I  cannot 
bear  to  hear. ' ' 

Ha!  ha!  said  Governor  Wiseman.  It  is  the  old 
story  of  step-mothers.  I  don't  believe  they  are 
any  worse  than  other  people,  taking  the  average. 
I  have  often  wondered  why  it  is  that  the  novels 
and  romances  alvrays  make  the  step-mother  turn 
out  so  very  badly.  She  always  dresses  too  much 
and  bangs  the  children.  The  authors,  if  writing 
out  of  their  own  experience,  must  have  had  a 
very  hard  time. 

In  society  it  has  become  a  proverb:  "Cruel  as 
a  step-mother.  "  I  am  disposed,  however,  to  think 
that,  while  there  may  be  marked  exceptions, 
step-mothers  are  the  most  self-sacrificing  beings 
in  all  the  world.  They  come  into  the  family  scrut- 
inized by  the  household  and  the  relatives  of  the 
one  who  used  to  occupy  the  motherly  position. 
Neighborly  busybodies  meet  the  children  on  the 
street  and  sigh  over  them  and  ask  them  how 
their  new  mother  treats  them.     The  wardrobe  of 


246  Arou7id  the  Tea-table. 

the  youngsters  comes  under  the  severe  inspection 
of  outsiders. 

The  child,  having  been  taught  that  the  lady  of 
the  household  is  ''nothing  but  a  step-mother,  " 
screams  at  the  least  chastisement,  knowing  that 
the  neighbors'  window  is  up  and  this  wall  be  a 
good  way  of  making  publication.  That  is  called 
cruelty  which  is  only  a  most  reasonable,  moderate 
and  Christian  spanking.  What  a  job  she  has  in 
navigating  a  whole  nursery  of  somebody  else's 
children  through  mumps,  measles,  whooping- 
cough  and  chicken-pox !  One  of  the  things  that 
I  rejoice  over  in  life  is  that  it  is  impossible  that 
I  ever  become  a  step-mother.  In  many  cases  she 
has  the  largest  possible  toil  for  the  least  reward. 

Blessed  be  the  Lord  w^ho  setteth  the  solitary  in 
families  that  there  are  glorious  exceptions !  The 
new  mother  comes  to  the  new  home,  and  the  chil- 
dren gather  the  first  day  around  her  as  the  natural 
protector.  They  never  know  the  difference  between 
the  first  and  second  mother.  They  seem  like  two 
verses  of  the  same  hymn,  two  days  of  the  sum- 
mer, two  strokes  of  the  same  bell,  two  blessings 
from  the  same  God. 

She  is  watchful  all  night  long  over  the  sick  little 
one,  bathing  the  brow  and  banishing  the  scare  of 
the  feverish  dream.  After  a  while  those  children 
will  rise  up  to  do  her  honor ;  and  when  her  work 
is  done,  she  will  go  up  to  get  the  large  reward 
that  awaits  a  faithful,  great-hearted  Christian 
step-mother  in  the  land  where  the  neighbors  all 
mind  their  own  business. 


CHAPTER  LV. 
A  LAYER  OF  WAFFLES. 

Several  months  had  passed  alon^  since  we  had 
enjoyed  the  society  of  Governor  Wiseman,  Doctor 
Heavyasbricks  and  Fred  Quizzle.  At  our  especial 
call  they  had  come  again. 

The  evening  air  was  redolent  with  waffles 
baked  in  irons  that  had  given  them  the  square 
imprint  which  has  come  down  through  the  ages 
as  the  only  orthodox  pattern. 

No  sooner  had  our  friends  seated  themselves  at 
the  tea-table  than — 

Quizzle  began :  I  see,  Governor  Wiseman,  that 
the  races  have  just  come  off  in  England.  What 
do  you  think  of  horse-racing? 

Wiseman.— That  has  become  a  very  important 
question  for  every  moralist  to  answer.  I  see  that 
last  week  England  took  carriage  and  horses  and 
went  out  to  Epsom  Downs  to  see  the  Derby  races. 
The  race  was  won  by  Sir  George  Frederick ;  that 
is  the  name  of  the  successful  horse.  All  the  par- 
ticulars come  by  telegraph.  There  is  much  now 
being  done  for  the  turf  in  this  country  as  well  as 
in  England,  and  these  horses  are  improved  year  by 
year.  I  wonder  if  the  race  of  men  who  frequent 
these  entertainments  are  as  much  improved  as  the 
horses?  I  like  horses  very  much,  but  I  like  men 
better.  So  far  as  we  can  judge,  the  horses  are 
getting  the  best  part  of  these  exercises,  for  they 
never  bet,  and  always  come  home  sober.  If  the 
horses  continue  to  come  up  as  much  as  they  have, 
and  our  sporting  friends  continue  to  go  down  in 
the  same  ratio,  by  an  inevitable  law  of  progres- 
sion we  shall  after  a  while  have  two  men  going 
round  the  course  neck  and  neck,  while  Dexter  and 
247 


248  Around  the  Tea-table. 

Sir  George  Frederick  are  on  the  judges'  stand  de- 
ciding which  man  is  the  winner. 

Quizzle. — But  do  you  not,  Governor  Wiseman, 
believe  in  out-door  sports  and  recreations? 

Yes,  said  the  governor,  but  it  ought  to  be 
something  that  helps  a  man  as  well  as  the  brute. 
I  prefer  those  recreations  that  are  good  both  for 
a  man's  body  and  soul.  We  want  our  entire 
nature  developed. 

Two  thousand  people  the  other  day  waited  at 
the  depot  in  Albany  for  the  arrival  of  the  re- 
mains of  the  great  pugilist,  Heenan.  Then  they 
covered  the  coffin  with  immortelles.  No  wonder 
they  felt  badly.  The  poor  fellow's  work  was 
done.  He  had  broken  the  last  nose.  He  had 
knocked  out  the  last  tooth.  He  had  bunged  up 
the  last  eye.  He  had  at  last  himself  thrown  up 
the  sponge.  The  dead  hero  belonged  to  the  aris- 
tocracy of  hard-hitters.  If  I  remember  rightly, 
he  drew  the  first  blood  in  the  conflict  with  one 
who  afterward  became  one  of  the  rulers  of  the 
nation — the  Honora])le  John  Morrissey,  member 
of  Congress  of  the  United  States  and  chief  gam- 
bler at  Saratoga. 

There  is  just  now  an  attempt  at  the  glorification 
of  nmscle.  The  man  who  can  row  the  swiftest, 
or  strike  a  ball  the  farthest,  or  drop  the  strongest 
wrestler  is  coming  to  be  of  more  importance. 
Strong  muscle  is  a  grand  thing  to  have,  but  every- 
thing depends  on  how  you  use  it.  If  Heenan  had 
become  a  Christian,  he  would  have  made  a  capi- 
tal professor  in  Polemic  Theology.  If  the  Har- 
vard or  Yale  students  shall  come  in  from  the  boat- 
race  and  apply  his  athletic  strength  to  rowing  the 
world  out  of  the  breakers,  we  say  "All  hail!"  to 
him.  The  more  physical  force  a  man  has,  the 
better ;  but  if  Samson  finds  nothing  more  useful 
to  do  than  carrying  of  gate-posts,  his  strong  mus- 
cle is  onlv  a  nuisance. 


A  Layer  of  Waffles.  249 

By  all  means  let  us  culture  physical  energy. 
Let  there  be  more  gymnasiums  in  our  colleges 
and  theological  seminaries.  Let  the  student 
know  how  to  wield  oar  and  bat,  and  in  good 
boyish  wrestle  see  who  is  the  strongest.  The 
health  of  mental  and  spiritual  work  often  de- 
pends on  physical  health.  If  I  were  not  opposed 
to  betting,  I  would  lay  a  wager  that  I  can  tell 
from  the  book  column  in  any  of  the  newspapers 
or  magazines  of  the  land  the  condition  of  each 
critic's  liver  and  spleen  at  the  time  of  his 
writing. 

A  very  prominent  literary  man  apologized  to 
me  the  other  day  for  his  merciless  attack  on  one- 
of  my  books,  saying  that  he  felt  miserable  that 
morning  and  must  pitch  into  something;  and 
my  book  being  the  first  one  on  the  table,  he 
pitched  into  that.  Our  health  decides  our  style 
of  work.  If  this  world  is  to  be  taken  for  God, 
we  want  more  sanctified  muscle.  The  man  who 
comes  to  his  Christian  work  having  had  sound 
sleep  the  night  before,  and  the  result  of  roast 
beef  rare  in  his  organism,  can  do  almost  any- 
thing. Luther  was  not  obliged  to  nurse  his 
appetite  with  any  plantation  bitters,  but  was- 
ready  for  the  coarsest  diet,  even  the  "Diet  of 
Worms. ' ' 

But  while  I  advocate  all  sports,  and  exercises, 
and  modes  of  life  that  improve  the  physical 
organism,  I  have  no  respect  for  bone,  and  nerve, 
and  muscle  in  the  abstract.  Health  is  a  fine- 
harp,  but  I  want  to  know  what  tune  you  are 
going  to  play  on  it.  I  have  not  one  daisy  to  put 
on  the  grave  of  a  dead  pugilist  or  mere  boat-racer, 
but  all  the  garlands  I  can  twist  for  the  tomb  of 
the  man  who  serves  God,  though  he  be  as  physi- 
cally weak  as  Richard  Baxter,  whose  ailments 
were  almost  as  many  as  his  books,  and  they 
numbered  forty. 


250  Around  the  Tea-table. 

At  this  last  sentence  the  company  at  the  table, 
forgetful  of  the  presence  of  Doctor  Heavyasbricks, 
showed  some  disposition  at  good  hr.mor,  when 
the  doctor's  brows  lifted  in  surprise,  ancrl  he 
observed  that  he  thought  a  man  with  forty  ail- 
ments was  a  painful  spectacle,  and  ought  to  be 
calculated  to  depress  a  tea-table  rather  than 
exhilarate  it. 

"But,  Governor  Wiseman, "  said  Quizzle,  ''do 
you  not  think  that  it  is  possible  to  combine 
physical,  mental  and  spiritual  recreations?" 

Oh  yes,  replied  the  governor;  I  like  this  new 
mode  of  mingling  religion  with  summer  pleasures. 
Soon  the  Methodists  will  be  shaking  out  their 
tents  and  packing  their  lunch-baskets  and  buying 
their  railroad  and  steamboat  tickets  for  the  camp- 
meeting  grounds.  Martha's  Vineyard,  Round 
Lake,  Ocean  Grove  and  Sea  Cliff  will  soon  mingle 
psalms  and  prayers  with  the  voice  of  surf  and 
forest.  Eev.  Doctor  J.  H.  Vincent,  the  silver 
trumpet  of  Sabbath-schoolism,  -is  marshaling  a 
meeting  for  the  banks  of  Chautauqua  Lake  which 
will  probably  be  the  grandest  religious  picnic 
ever  held  since  the  five  thousand  sat  down  on  the 
grass  and  had  a  surplus  of  provision  to  take  home 
to  those  who  were  too  stupid  to  go.  From  the 
arrangement  being  made  for  that  meeting  in 
August,  I  judge  there  will  be  so  much  consecrated 
enthusiasm  that  there  may  be  danger  that  some 
morning,  as  the  sun  strikes  gloriously  through  the 
ascending  mist  of  Chautauqua  Lake,  our  friends 
may  all  go  up  in  a  chariot  of  fire,  leaving  our 
Sunday-schools  in  a  bereft  condition.  If  they  do 
go  up  in  that  way,  may  their  mantle  or  their 
straw  hat  fall  this  way! 

Why  not  have  all  our  churches  and  denomina- 
tions take  a  summer  airing?  The  breath  of  the 
pine  woods  or  a  wrestle  with  the  waters  would 
put  an  end  to  everything  like  morbid  religion. 


A  Layer  of  Waffles.  251 

One  reason  why  the  apostles  had  such  healthy 
theology  is  that  they  went  a-tishing;  We  would 
like  to  see  the  day  when  we  will  have  Presby- 
terian camp-meetings,  and  Episcopalian  camp- 
meetings,  and  Baptist  camp-meetings,  and  Con- 
gregational camp-meetings,  or,  what  would  be 
still  better,  when,  forgetful  of  all  minor  distinc- 
tions, we  could  have  a  church  universal  camp- 
meeting.  I  would  like  to  help  plant  the  tent-pole 
for  such  a  convocation. 

Quizzle. — Do  you  not  think,  governor,  that 
there  are  inexpensive  modes  of  recreation  which 
are  quite  as  good  as  those  that  absorb  large  means? 

Yes,  said  the  governor ;  we  need  to  cut  the  coat 
according  to  our  cloth.  When  I  see  that  the 
Prince  of  Wales  is  three  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  debt,  notwithstanding  his  enormous 
income,  I  am  forcibly  reminded  that  it  is  not  the 
amount  of  money  a  man  gets  that  makes  him  well 
off,  but  the  margin  between  the  income  and  the 
outgo.  The  young  man  who  while  he  makes  a 
dollar  spends  a  dollar  and  one  cent  is  on  the  sure 
road  either  to  bankruptcy  or  the  penitentiary. 

Next  to  the  evil  of  living  beyond  one's  means 
is  that  of  spending  all  one's  income.  There  are 
multitudes  who  are  sailing  so  near  shore  that  a 
slight  wind  in  the  wrong  direction  founders  them. 
They  get  on  well  while  the  times  are  usual  and 
the  wages  promptly  paid ;  but  a  panic  or  a  short 
period  of  sickness,  and  they  drop  helpless.  Many 
a  father  has  gone  with  his  family  in  a  fine  car- 
riage drawn  by  a  spanking  team  till  he  came  up 
to  his  grave;  then  he  lay  down,  and  his  children 
have  got  out  of  the  carriage,  and  not  only  been 
compelled  to  walk,  but  to  go  barefoot.  Against 
parsimony  and  niggardliness  I  proclaim  war ;  Vjut 
with  the  same  sentence  I  condemn  those  who 
make  a  grand  splash  while  they  live,  leaving: 
their  families  in  destitution  when  they  die 


252  Around  tne  Tea-table. 

Quizzle. — Where,  governor,  do  you  expect  to 
recreate  this  coming  summer? 

Wiseman. — Have  not  yet  made  up  my  mind. 
The  question  is  coming  up  in  all  our  households 
as  to  the  best  mode  of  vacation.  We  shall  all 
need  rest.  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  measure  the 
length  of  your  purse ;  you  cannot  make  a  short 
purse  reach  around  Saratoga  and  the  White  Moun- 
tains. There  may  be  as  much  health,  good  cheer 
and  recuperation  in  a  country-  farmhouse  where 
the  cows  come  up  every  night  and  yield  milk 
without  any  chalk  in  it. 

What  the  peojjle  of  our  cities  need  is  quiet. 
What  the  people  of  the  country  need  is  sightsee- 
ing. Let  the  mountains  come  to  New  York  and 
New  York  go  to  the  mountains.  The  nearest  I 
ever  get  to  heaven  in  this  world  is  lying  flat  down 
on  my  back  under  a  tree,  looking  up  through  the 
branches,  five  miles  oflF  from  a  post-ofifice  or  a  tele- 
graph station.  But  this  would  be  torture  to 
others. 

Independent  of  what  others  do  or  say,  let  us  in 
the  selection  of  summer  recreations  study  our  own 
temperament  and  finances.  It  does  not  pay  to 
spend  so  much  money  in  July  and  August  that 
you  have  to  go  pinched  and  half  jnad  the  rest  of 
the  year.  The  healthiest  recreations  do  not  cost 
much.  In  boyhood,  with  a  string  and  a  crooked 
yjin  attached  to  it,  I  fished  up  more  fun  from  the 
mill-pond  than  last  summer  with  a  five-dollar 
apparatus  I  caught  among  the  Franconia  Moun- 
tains. 

There  is  a  great  area  of  enjojTnent  within  the 
circumference  of  one  dollar  if  you  only  know  how 
to  make  the  circuit.  More  depends  upon  our- 
selves than  upon  the  aflSuence  of  our  surroundings. 
If  you  are  compelled  to  stay  home  all  summer, 
you  may  be  as  happy  as  though  you  went  away. 
The  enjoyment  of  the  first  of  July,  when  I  go 


A  Layer  of  Waffles.  253 

off,  is  surpassed  by  nothing  but  tlie  first  of  Sep- 
tember, when  I  come  home. 

There  being  a  slight  pause  in  the  conversation, 
Doctor  Heavyasbricks  woke  gradually  up  and 
began  to  move  his  lips  and  to  show  strong  symp- 
toms of  intention  to  ask  for  himself  a  question. 
He  said :  I  have  been  attending  the  anniversaries 
in  New  York,  and  find  that  they  are  about  dead. 
Wiseman,  can  you  tell  me  what  killed  them? 

Governor  Wiseman  replied :  It  is  a  great  pity 
that  the  anniversaries  are  dead.  They  once  lived 
a  robust  life,  but  began  some  fifteen  years  ago  to 
languish,  and  have  finally  expired.  To  the  appro- 
priate question,  What  killed  them?  I  answer, 
Peregrination  was  one  of  the  causes.  There  never 
has  been  any  such  place  for  the  anniversaries  as 
the  Broadway  Tabernacle.  It  was  large  and  social 
and  central.  When  that  place  was  torn  down,  the 
anniversaries  began  their  travels.  Going  some 
morning  out  of  the  warm  sunshine  into  some 
cathedral-looking  place,  they  got  the  chills,  and 
under  the  dark  stained  glass  everything  looked 
blue.  In  the  afternoon  they  would  enter  some 
great  square  hall  where  everything  was  formal. 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  have  a  genial  and  suc- 
cessful meeting  in  a  square  hall.  When  in  former 
days  the  country  pastor  said  to  his  congregation, 
''Meet  me  at  the  New  York  anniversaries,"  they 
all  knew  where  to  go ;  but  after  the  old  Broadway 
Tabernacle  went  down,  the  aforesaid  congregation 
might  have  looked  in  five  or  six  places  and  not 
found  their  minister.  The  Xew  York  anniver- 
saries died  on  the  street  between  the  old  Taber- 
nacle and  St.  Paul's  Methodist  Cathedral. 

Prolix  reports  also  helped  to  kill  the  patient. 
Nothing  which  was  not  in  its  nature  immortal 
could  have  survived  these.  The  secretary  would 
read  till  he  got  out  of  wind,  and  would  then  say 
that  the  remainder  of  the  report  would  be  found 


254  Around  the  Tea-table. 

in  the  printed  copies  in  the  pews.  The  speakers 
following  had  the  burden  of  galvanizing  an  ex- 
hausted meeting,  and  the  Christian  man  who 
attended  the  anniversary  on  retiring  that  evening 
had  the  nightmare  in  the  shape  of  a  portly  secre- 
tary sitting  astride  his  chest  reading  from  a  huge 
scroll  of  documents. 

Diluted  Christian  oratory  also  helped  to  kill  the 
anniversaries.  The  men  whom  we  heard  in  our 
boyhood  on  the  Broadway  platform  believed  in  a 
whole  Bible,  and  felt  that  if  the  gospel  did  not 
save  the  world  nothing  ever  would;  consequently, 
they  spoke  in  blood-red  earnestness  and  made  the 
place  quake  with  their  enthusiasm.  There  came 
afterward  a  weak-kneed  stock  of  ministers  M'ho 
thought  that  part  of  the  Bible  was  true,  if  they 
w^ere  not  very  much  mistaken,  and  that,  on  the 
whole,  religion  was  a  good  thing  for  most  people, 
certainly  if  they  had  weak  constitutions,  and  that 
man  could  be  easily  saved  if  we  could  get  the 
phrenologist  to  fix  up  his  head,  and  the  gymna- 
sium to  develop  his  muscle,  and  the  minister  to 
coax  him  out  of  his  indiscretions.  Well,  the 
anniversaries  could  not  live  on  pap  and  confec- 
tionery, and  so  they  died  for  lack  of  strong  meat. 

But  the  day  of  resurrection  will  come.  ]Mark 
that !  The  tide  of  Bible  evangelism  will  come  up 
again.  We  may  be  dead,  but  our  children  will 
see  it.  New  York  will  be  thronged  with  men 
and  women  who  will  come  up  once  a  year  to 
count  the  sheaves  of  harvest,  and  in  some  great 
building  thronged  from  the  platform  to  the  vesti- 
bule an  aroused  Christian  audience  will  applaud 
the  news,  just  received  by  telegraph,  of  a  nation 
born  in  a  day,  and  sing  with  more  power  than 
when  Thomas  Hastings  used  to  act  as  precentor: 

* '  The  year  of  jubilee  has  come ; 
Return,  ye  ransom'd  sinners,  home." 


A  Layer  of  Waffles.  255 

Qiiizzle. — You  speak,  governor,  of  the  ruinous 
effect  of  prolixity  in  religious  service.  How  long 
ought  a  public  service  continue? 

Wiseman. — There  is  much  discussion  in  the 
papers  as  to  how  long  or  short  sermons  and 
prayers  ought  to  be.  Some  say  a  discourse  ought 
to  last  thirty  minutes,  and  others  forty,  and 
others  an  hour,  and  prayers  should  be  three 
minutes  long,  or  five,  or  fifteen.  You  might  as 
well  discuss  how  long  a  frock-coat  ought  to  be,  or 
how  many  ounces  of  food  a  man  ought  to  eat. 
In  the  one  case,  everything  depends  upon  the 
man's  size;  in  the  other,  everything  on  the 
capacity  of  his  stomach.  A  sermon  or  a  prayer 
ought  to  go  on  as  long  as  it  is  of  any  profit.  If 
it  is  doing  no  good,  the  sermon  is  half  an  hour 
too  long,  though  it  take  only  thirty  minutes.  If 
the  audience  cough,  or  fidget,  or  shuffle  their 
feet,  you  had  better  stop  praying.  There  is  no 
excuse  for  a  man's  talking  or  praying  too  long  if 
he  have  good  eyesight  and.  hearing. 

But  suppose  a  man  have  his  sermon  written  and 
before  him.  You  say  he  must  go  through  with 
it?  Oh  no.  Let  him  skip  a  few  leaves.  Better 
sacrifice  three  or  four  sheets  of  sermon-paper  than 
sacrifice  the  interest  of  your  hearers.  But  it  is  a 
silly  thing  for  a  man  in  a  prayer-meeting  or 
pulpit  to  stop  merely  because  a  certain  number  of 
minutes  have  expired  while  the  interest  is  deep- 
ening— absurd  as  a  hunter  on  the  track  of  a  roe- 
buck, and  within  two  minutes  of  bringing  down  its 
antlers,  stopping  because  his  wife  said  that  at  six 
o'clock  precisely  he  must  be  home  to  supper. 
Keep  on  hunting  till  your  ammunition  gives  out. 

Still,  we  must  all  admit  that  the  danger  is  on 
the  side  of  prolixity.  The  most  interesting 
prayers  we  ever  hear  are  by  new  converts,  who 
say  everything  they  have  to  say  and  break  down 
in  one  minute.     There  are  men  who,  from  the 


256  A7'02ind  the  Tea-table. 

■way  they  begin  their  supplications,  indicate  a 
long  siege.  They  first  pray  you  into  a  good 
frame,  and  then  pray  you  out.  They  take 
literally  what  Paul  meant  to  be  figurative :  '  *  Pray 
-without  ceasing. ' ' 

Quizzle. — I  see  there  was  no  lack  of  interest 
w^hen  the  brewers'  convention  met  the  other  day 
in  Boston,  and  that  in  their  longest  session  the 
attention  did  not  flag. 

Wiseman, — Yes;  I  see  that  speeches  were  made 
on  the  beneficial  use  of  fermented  liquors.  The 
announcement  was  made  that  during  the  year 
8,910,823  barrels  of  the  precious  stuff  had  been 
manufactured.  I  suppose  that  while  the  conven- 
tion was  there  Boston  must  have  smelt  like  one 
great  ale-pitcher.  The  delegates  were  invited  to 
visit  the  suburbs  of  the  city.  Strange  that 
nobody  thought  of  inviting  them  to  visit  the 
cemeteries  and  graveyards,  especially  the  potter's 
field,  where  thousands  of  their  victims  are  buried. 
Perhaps  you  are  in  sympathy  with  these  brewers, 
and  say  that  if  people  would  take  beer  instead  of 
alcohol  drunkenness  would  cease.  But  for  the 
vast  majority  who  drink,  beer  is  only  intro- 
ductory to  something  stronger.  It  is  only  one 
■carriage  in  the  same  funeral.  Do  not  spell  it 
b-e-e-r,  but  spell  it  b-i-e-r.  May  the  lightnings 
of  heaven  strike  and  consume  all  the  breweries 
from  river  Penobscot  to  the  Golden  Horn ! 

Quizzle. — I  see,  governor,  that  you  were  last 
^'eek  in  Washington.     How  do  things  look  there? 

Wiseman. — Very  well.  The  general  appearance 
-of  our  national  capital  never  changes.  It  is 
always  just  as  far  from  the  Senate-chamber  to  the 
White  House;  indeed,  so  far  that  many  of  our 
great  men  have  never  been  able  to  travel  it. 
There  are  the  usual  number  of  petitioners  for 
governmental  patronage  hanging  around  the  hotels 
.and  the  congressional  lobbies.     They  are  willing 


A  Layer  of  Waffles.  257 

to  take  almost  anything  they  can  get,  from 
minister  to  Spain  to  village  postmaster.  They 
come  in  with  the  same  kind  of  carpet-bags,  look 
stupid  and  anxious  for  several  days,  and  having 
borrowed  money  enough  from  the  member  from 
their  district  to  pay  their  fare,  take  the  cars  for 
home,  denouncing  the  administration  and  the 
ungratefulness  of  republics. 

I  think  that  the  two  houses  of  Congress  are  the 
best  and  most  capable  of  any  almost  ever  assem- 
bled. Of  course  there  is  a  dearth  of  great  men. 
Only  here  and  there  a  Senator  or  Representative 
you  ever  before  heard  of.  Indeed,  the  nuisances 
of  our  national  council  in  other  days  were  the 
great  men  who  took,  in  making  great  speeches, 
the  time  that  ought  to  have  been  spent  in  attend- 
ing to  business.  We  air  know  that  it  was  eight 
or  ten  ''honorable"  bloats  of  the  last  thirty  years 
who  made  our  chief  international  troubles. 

Our  Congress  is  made  up  mostly  of  practical 
every-day  men.  They  have  no  speeches  to  make, 
and  no  past  political  reputation  to  nurse,  and  no 
national  fame  to  achieve.  I  like  the  new  crop  of 
statesmen  better  than  the  old,  although  it  is  a 
shorter  crop.  They  do  not  drink  so  much  rum, 
and  not  so  large  a  proportion  of  them  will  die  of 
delirium  tremens.  They  may  not  have  such 
resounding  names  as  some  of  their  predecessors, 
but  I  prefer  a  Congress  of  ordinary  men  to  a 
group  of  Senators  and  Representatives  overawed 
and  led  about  by  five  or  six  overgrown",  political 
Brobdingnagians. 

While  in  Washington  we  had  a  startling  occur- 
rence. A  young  man  in  high  society  shot 
another  young  man,  who  fell  dead  instantly. 

I  wonder  that  there  is  not  more  havoc  with 
human  life  in  this  day,  when  it  is  getting  so 
popular  to  carry  firearms.  Most  of  our  young 
men,  and  many  of  our  boys,  do  not  feel  them- 


258  A7vu'/id  the  Tea-table. 

selves  in  tune  unless  they  have  a  pistol  accom- 
paniment. Men  are  locked  up  or  fined  if  found 
with  daggers  or  slung-shot  upon  their  persons,  but 
revolvers  go  free.  There  is  not  half  so  much 
danger  from  knife  as  pistol.  The  former  may  let 
the  victim  escape  minus  a  good  large  slice,  but 
the  latter  is  apt  to  drop  him  dead.  On  the 
frontiers,  or  engaged  in  police  duty,  firearms  may 
be  necessary ;  but  in  the  ordinary  walk  of  life 
pistols  are,  to  say  the  least,  a  superfluity.  Better 
empty  your  pockets  of  these  dangerous"^  weapons, 
and  see  that  your  sons  do  not  carry  them.  In  all 
the  ordinary  walks  of  life  an  honest  countenance 
and  orderly  behavior  are  sufficient  defence.  You 
had  better  stop  going  into  society  where  you  must 
always  be  ready  to  shoot  somebody. 

But  do  not  think,  my  dear  Fred,  that  I  am 
opposed  to  everything  because  I  have  this  evening 
spoken  against  so  many  difl'erent  things.  I  can- 
not take  the  part  of  those  who  pride  themselves 
in  hurling  a  stout  No  against  everything. 

A  friend  called  my  attention  to  the  fact  that 
Sanballat  wanted  to  hold  consultation  with  Xehe- 
miah  in  the  plain  of  0-no.  That  is  the  place 
where  more  people  stay,  to-day,  than  in  any 
other.  They  are  always  protesting,  throwing 
doubt  on  grand  undertakings ;  and  while  you  are 
in  the  mountain  of  0-yes,  they  spend  their  time 
on  the  plain  of  0-no.  In  the  harness  of  society 
they  are  breech ing-straps,  good  for  nothing  but  to 
hold  back. 

You  propose  to  call  a  minister.  All  the  indica- 
tions are  that  he  is  the  right  man.  Nine-tenths 
of  the  congregation  are  united  in  his  favor.  The 
matter  is  put  to  vote.  The  vast  majority  say 
"Av!"  the  handful  of  opponents  responded 
"O'no!" 

You  propose  to  build  a  new  church.  About  the 
site,  the  choice  of  architect,  the  upholstery,  the 


A  Layer  of  Waffles.  259 

plumbing  and  the  day  of  dedication  there  is 
almost  a  unanimity.  You  hope  that  the  crooked 
sticks  will  all  lie  still,  and  that  the  congregation 
A'ill  move  in  solid  phalanx.  But  not  so.  San- 
ballat  sends  for  Nehemiah,  proposing  to  meet  him 
in  the  plain  of  0-no. 

Some  men  were  born  backward,  and  have  been 
going  that  way  ever  since.  Opposition  to  every- 
thing has  become  chronic.  The  only  way  they 
feel  comfortable  is  when  harnessed  with  the  face 
toward  the  whiffletree  and  their  back  to  the  end 
of  the  shafts.  They  may  set  down  their  name  in 
the  hotel  register  as  living  in  Boston,  Chicago, 
Savannah  or  Brooklyn,  but  they  really  have 
been  spending  all  their  lives  on  the  plain  of  0-no. 
There  let  them  be  buried  with  their  face  toward 
the  west,  for  in  that  way  they  will  lie  more  com- 
fortably, as  other  people  are  buried  with  their 
face  to  the  east.  I)o  not  impose  upon  them  by 
putting  them  in  the  majority.     0-no  ! 

We  rejoice  that  there  seems  more  liberality 
among  good  men,  and  that  they  have  made  up 
their  minds  to  let  each  one  work  in  his  own  way. 
The  scalping-knives  are  being  dulled. 

The  cheerfulness  and  good  humor  which  have 
this  year  characterized  our  church  courts  is 
remarkable  and  in  strong  contrast  with  the  old- 
time  ecclesiastical  fights  which  shook  synods  and 
conferences.  Religious  controversies  always  have 
been  the  most  bitter  of  all  controversies ;  and 
when  ministers  do  fight,  they  fight  like  ven- 
geance. Once  a  church  court  visiting  a  place 
would  not  only  spend  much  of  their  own  time  in 
sharp  contention,  but  would  leave  the  religious 
community  to  continue  the  quarrel  after  adjourn- 
ment. Now  they  have  a  time  of  good  cheer  while 
in  convention,  and  leave  only  one  dispute  behind 
them  among  the  families,  and  that  arising  from 
the   fact   that   each   one  claims   it  had  the  best 


26o  Around  the  Tea-table. 

ministers  and  elders  at  their  house.  Contention 
is  a  child  of  the  darkness,  peace  the  daughter  of 
the  light.  The  only  help  for  a  cow's  hollow  horn 
is  a  gimlet-hole  bored  through  it,  and  the  best 
way  to  cure  religious  combatants  is  to  let  more 
gospel  light  through  their  antlers. 

As  we  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table  interested  in 
all  that  was  going  on,  and  saw  Governor  Wiseman 
with  his  honorable  name,  and  Quizzle  and  Heavy- 
asbricks  with  their  unattractive  titles,  we  thought 
of  the  affliction  of  an  awkward  or  ill-omened 
name. 

When  there  are  so  many  pleasant  names  by 
which  children  may  be  called,  what  right  has  a 
parent  to  place  on  his  child's  head  a  disadvantage 
at  the  start?  Worse  than  the  gauntlet  of  measles 
and  whooping-cough  and  mumps  which  the  little 
ones  have  to  run  is  this  parental  outrage. 

What  a  struggle  in  life  that  child  will  have  who 
has  been  baptized  Jedekiah  or  Mehitabel !  If  a 
child  is  "called  after"  some  one  living,  let  that 
one  be  past  mid-life  and  of  such  temperament 
that  there  shall  be  no  danger  of  his  becoming  an 
absconder  and  a  cheat.  As  far  as  possible  let  the 
name  given  be  short,  so  that  in  the  course  of  a 
lifetime  there  be  not  too  many  weeks  or  months 
taken  up  in  the  mere  act  of  signature.  The  bur- 
dens of  life  are  heavy  enough  without  putting 
upon  any  one  the  extra  weight  of  too  much  no- 
menclature. It  is  a  sad  thing  when  an  infant  has 
two  bachelor  uncles,  both  rich  and  with  out- 
rageous names,  for  the  baby  will  have  to  take 
both  titles,  and  that  is  enough  to  make  a  case  of 
infant  mortality. 

Quizzle. — You  seem  to  me,  governor,  to  be  more 
sprightly  at  every  interview. 

Well,  that  is  so,  but  I  do  not  know  how  long  it 
will  last ;  stout  people  like  myself  often  go  the 
quickest. 


A  Layer  of  Waffles.  261 

There  is  a  constant  sympathy  expressed  by 
robust  i)eople  for  those  of  slight  physical  constitu- 
tion. I  think  the  S}Tnpathy  ought  to  turn  in  the 
opposite  direction.  "  It  is  the  delicate  people  uho 
escape  the  most  fearful  disorders,  and  in  three 
cases  out  of  four  live  the  longest.  These  gigantic 
structures  are  almost  always  reckless  of  health. 
They  say,  "Nothing  hurts  me, ' '  and  so  they  stand 
in  draughts,  and  go  out  into  the  night  air  to  cool 
off,  and  eat  crabs  at  midnight,  and  doff  their 
flannels  in  April,  and  carelessly  get  their  feet  wet. 

But  the  delicate  people  are  shy  of  peril.  They 
know  that  disease  has  been  fishing  for  them  for 
twenty  years,  and  they  keep  away  from  the  hook. 
No  trout  can  be  caught  if  he  sees  the  shadow  of 
the  sportsman  on  the  brook.  These  people  whom 
everybody  expects  to  die,  live  on  most  tena- 
ciously. 

I  know  of  a  young  lady  who  evidently  married 
a  very  wealthy  man  of  eighty-five  years  on  the 
ground  he  was  very  delicate,  and  with  reference 
to  her  one-third.  But  the  aged  invalid  is  so  care- 
ful of  his  health,  and  the  young  wife  so  reckless 
of  hers,  that  it  is  now  uncertain  whether  she  will 
inherit  his  store-houses  or  he  inherit  her  wedding- 
rings. 

Health  and  longevity  depend  more  upon  caution 
and  intelligent  management  of  one's  self  than 
upon  original  physical  outfit.  Paul's  advice  ta 
the  sheriff  is  appropriate  to  people  in  all  occupa- 
tions :     "Do  thyself  no  harm  ! ' ' 

Besides  that,  said  the  governor,  I  have  moved 
and  sett-led  in  very  comfortable  quarters  since  I 
was  at  this  table  Vjefore.  The  house  I  have  moved 
in  is  not  a  better  house,  but  somehow  I  feel  more 
contented. 

Most  of  our  households  are  quieted  after  th& 
great  annual  upsetting.  The  last  carpet  is  tacked 
down.     The  strings  that  were  scattered  along  the- 


262  A?'0i{7id  the  Tea-table. 

floor  have  been  rolled  up  in  a  ball.  We  begin  to 
know  the  turns  in  the  stairway.  Things  are 
settling  down,  and  we  shall  soon  feel  at  home  in 
our  new  residence.  If  it  is  a  better  house  than 
we  had,  do  not  let  us  be  too  proud  of  the  door- 
plate,  nor  worship  too  ardently  the  fine  cornice, 
nor  have  any  idea  that  superb  surroundings  are 
going  to  make  us  any  happier  than  we  were  in 
the  old  house. 

Set  not  your  affections  on  luxurious  upholstery 
and  spacious  drawing-room.  Be  grateful  and  be 
humble. 

If  the  house  is  not  as  large  nor  in  as  good 
neighborhood  as  the  one  you  formerly  occupied, 
make  the  best  of  it.  It  is  astonishing  what 
s.  good  time  you  may  have  in  a  small  room.  Your 
present  neighbors  are  just  as  kind  as  those  you 
left,  if  you  only  knew  them.  Do  not  go  around 
your  house  sticking  up  your  nose  at  the  small 
pantry,  and  the  ugly  mantel-pieces,  and  the  low 
ceiling.  It  is  a  better  place  than  your  divine 
Master  occupied,  and  to  say  the  least  you  are  no 
better  than  He.  If  you  are  a  Christian,  you  are 
on  your  way  to  a  King's  mansion,  and  you  are 
now  only  stopping  a  little  in  the  porter's  lodge  at 
the  gate.  Go  down  in  the  dark  lanes  of  the  city 
and  see  how  much  poorer  ofi"  many  of  your  fel- 
low-citizens are.  If  the  heart  be  right,  the  home 
will  be  right. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 
FRIDAY  EVENING. 

Our  friend  Churchill  was  a  great  man  for  reli- 
gious meetings.  As  he  shoved  back  from  our  tea- 
table  he  said,  "I  must  be  off  to  church.  " 

Then  he  yawned  as  though  he  expected  to  have 
a  dull  time,  and  asked  me  why  it  was  that  reli- 
gious meetings  were  often  so  very  insipid  and  that 
many  people  went  to  them  merely  as  a  matter  of 
duty.  Without  waiting  for  me  to  give  my  opin- 
ion," he  said  he  thought  that  there  was  a  sombre 
hue  given  to  such  meetings  that  was  killing  and 
in  a  sort  of  soliloquy  continued : 

There  is  one  thing  Satan  does  well.  He  is  good 
at  stating  the  discouraging  side.  He  knows  how 
to  fish  for  obstacles,  and  every  time  brings  up  his 
net  full.  Do  not  let  us  help  him  in  his  work. 
If  you  have  anything  to  say  in  prayer-meeting 
that  is  disheartening,  may  you  forget  your  speech  I 
Tell  us  something  on  the  bright  side. 

I  know  a  Christian  man  who  did  something  out- 
rageously wrong.  Some  one  said  to  me:  "Why 
do  you  not  expose  him?' '  I  replied  :  ' '  That  is  the 
devil's  work  and  it  will  be  thoroughly  done.  If 
there  is  anything  good  about  him,  we  would 
rather  speak  of  that. ' ' 

Give  us  no  sermons  or  newspaper  articles  that 
are  depressing.  We  know  all  that  before  you  start ; 
amid  the  greatest  disheartenments  there  are  hope- 
ful things  that  may  be  said.  While  the  Mediter- 
ranean corn-ship  was  going  to  smash,  Paul  told 
the  crew  to  "Be  of  good  cheer. "  We  like  apple 
trees  because,  though  they  are  not  handsome,  they 
have    bright    blossoms    and    good    fruit,  but    we 

263 


264  Around  the  Tea-table. 

despise  weeping  willows  because  they  never  do 
anything  but  cry. 

On  a  dark  day  do  not  go  around  closing  the 
window-shutters.  The  world  is  dark  enough  with- 
out your  making  it  more  so.  Is  there  anybody  in 
the  room  who  has  a  match?  Please  then 'strike  it. 
There  is  only  one  kind  of  champagne  that  we 
temperance  folks  can  take,  and  that  is  encourag- 
ing remark.  It  is  a  stimulus,  and  what  makes  it 
better  than  all  other  kinds  of  champagne  is  it 
leaves  no  headache. 

I  said  to  him,  I  think  religious  meetings  have 
been  improved  in  the  last  few  years.  One  of  the 
grandest  results  of  the  Fulton  street  prayer-meet- 
ing is  the  fact  that  all  the  devotional  services  of 
the  country  have  been  revolutionized.  The  tap  of 
the  bell  of  that  historical  prayer-meeting  has 
shortened  the  prayers  and  exhortations  of  the 
church  universal. 

But  since  it  has  become  the  custom  to  throw  open 
the  meetings  for  remark  and  exhortation,  there 
has  been  a  jubilee  among  the  religious  bores  who 
wander  around  pestering  the  churches.  We  have 
tM'o  or  three  outsiders  who  come  about  once  in 
six  weeks  into  our  prayer-meeting;  and  if  they 
can  get  a  chance  to  speak,  they  damage  all  the 
interest.  They  talk  long"  and  loud  in  proportion 
as  they  have  nothing  to  say.  They  empty  on  us 
several  bushels  of  "ohs"  and  ''ahs. "  But  they 
seldom  get  a  chance,  for  we  never  throw  the  meet- 
ing open  when  we  see  they  are  there.  We  make 
such  a  close  hedge  of  hymns  and  prayers  that  they 
cannot  break  into  the  garden. 

One  of  them  we  are  free  of  because,  one  night, 
seeing  him  wiggle-waggle  in  his  seat  as  if  about 
to  rise,  we  sent  an  elder  to  him  to  say  that  his 
remarks  were  not  acceptable.  The  elder  blushed 
and  halted  a  little  when  we  gave  him  the  mission, 
but  setting  his  teeth  together  he  started  for  the 


Friday  Evomig.  265 

oflFensive  brother,  leaned  over  the  back  of  the  pew 
and  discharged  the  duty.  We  have  never  seen 
that  brother  since,  but  once  in  the  street,  and  then 
he  was  looking  the  other  way. 

By  what  right  such  men  go  about  in  ecclesiasti- 
cal vagabondism  to  spoil  the  peace  of  devotional 
meetings  it  is  impossible  to  tell.  Either  that  nui- 
sance must  be  abated  or  we  must  cease  to  "throw 
open"  our  prayer-meetings  for  exhortation. 

A  few  words  about  the  uses  of  a  week -night 
service.  Many  Christians  do  not  appreciate  it ; 
indeed,  it  is  a  great  waste  of  time,  unless  there 
be  some  positive  advantage  gained. 

The  French  nation  at  one  time  tried  having  a 
Sabbath  only  once  in  ten  days.  The  intelligent 
Christian  finds  he  needs  a  Sabbath  every  three  or 
four  days,  and  so  builds  a  brief  one  on  the  shore 
of  a  week-day  in  the  shape  of  an  extra  religious 
service.  He  gets  grace  on  Sabljath  to  bridge  the 
chasm  of  worldliness  between  that  and  the  next 
Sabbath,  but  finds  the  arch  of  the  bridge  very 
great,  and  so  runs  up  a  pier  midway  to  help  sus'- 
tain  the  pressure. 

There  are  one  hundred  and  sixty-eight  hours  in 
a  week,  and  but  two  hours  of  public  religious 
service  on  Sabbath.  What  chance  have  two  hours 
in  a  battle  with  one  hundred  and  sixty-eight? 

A  week-night  meeting  allows  church  member- 
ship utterance.  A  minister  cannot  know  how  to 
preach  unless  in  a  conference  meeting  he  finds 
the  religious  .state  of  the  people.  He  must  feel  the 
pulse  before  giving  the  medicine,  otherwise  he 
will  not  know  whether  it  ought  to  be  an  anodyne 
or  a  stimulant.  Every  Christian  ought  to  have 
something  to  say.  Every  man  is  a  walking  eter- 
nity. The  plainest  man  has  Omnipotence  to  de- 
fend him.  Omniscience  to  watch  him,  infinite 
(roodness  to  provide  for  him.  The  tamest  reli- 
gious experience  has  in  it  poems,  tragedies,  his- 


266  Aroiuid  the  Tea-table. 

tories,  Iliads,  Paradise  Lost  and  Paradise  Regained. 
Ought  not  such  a  one  have  something  to  say? 

If  you  were  ever  in  the  army  you  know  what 
it  is  to  see  an  officer  on  horselDack  dash  swiftly 
past  carrying  a  dispatch.  You  wondered  as  he  went 
what  the  news  was.  Was  the  army  to  advance,  or 
was  an  enemy  coming? 

So  every  Christian  carries  a  dispatch  from  (Jod 
to  the  world.  Let  him  ride  swiftly  to  deliver  it. 
'The  army  is  to  advance  and  the  enemy  is  coming. 
Go  out  and  fulfill  your  mission.  You  may  have 
had  a  letter  committed  to  your  care,  and  after 
some  days  you  find  it  in  one  of  your  pockets,  you 
forgot  to  deliver  it.  Great  was  your  chagrin  when 
you  found  that  it  pertained  to  some  sickness  or 
trouble.  God  gives  every  man  a  letter  of  warn- 
ing or  invitation  to  carry,  and  what  will  be  your 
chagrin  in  the  judgment  to  find  that  you  have 
forgotten  it ! 

A  week-night  meeting  widens  the  pulpit  till  all 
the  people  can  stand  on  it.  Such  a  service  tests 
one's  piety.  Xo  credit  for  going  to  church  on 
Sabbath.  Places  of  amusement  are  all  closed,  and 
there  is  no  money  to  be  made.  But  week-nightss 
every  kind  of  temptation  and  opportunity  spreads 
before  a  man,  and  if  he  goes  to  the  praying  circle 
he  must  give  up  these  things.  The  man  who  goes 
to  the  weekly  service  regularly  through  moonlight 
and  pitch  darkness,  through  good  walking  and 
slush  ankle-deep,  will  in  the  book  of  judgment 
find  it  set  down  to  his  credit.  He  will  have  a 
better  seat  in  heaven  than  the  man  who  went 
only  when  the  walking  was  good,  and  the  weather 
comfortable,  and  the  services  attractive,  and  his 
health  perfect.  That  service  which  costs  nothing 
God  accounts  as  nothing. 

A  week-night  service  thrusts  religion  in  the 
secularities  of  the  week.  It  is  as  much  as  to  say, 
"This  is  God's  Wednesday,  or  God's  Thursday, 


Friday  Evcjiijig,  267 

or  God's  Friday,  or  God's  week."  You  would 
not  give  much  for  a  property  the  possession  of 
which  you  could  have  only  one-seventh  of  the 
time,  and  God  does  not  want  that  man  whose  ser- 
vices he  can  have  only  on  Sabbath.  If  you  paid 
full  wages  to  a  man  and  found  out  that  six-sevenths 
of  the  time  he  was  serving  a  rival  house,  you 
would  be  indignant ;  and  the  man  who  takes 
God's  goodness  and  gives  six-sevenths  of  his  time 
to  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil  is  an  abomi- 
nation to  the  Lord.  The  whole  week  ought  to  be 
a  temple  of  seven  rooms  dedicated  to  God.  You 
may,  if  you  will,  make  one  room  the  holy  of  holies, 
but  let  all  the  temple  be  consecrate. 

The  week-night  service  gives  additional  oppor- 
tunity of  religious  culture,  and  we  find  it  so  diffi- 
cult to  do  right  and  be  right  that  we  cannot  afford 
to  miss  any  opportunity.  vSuch  a  service  is  a  lunch 
between  the  Sabbath  meals,  and  if  we  do  not  take 
it  we  get  weak  and  faint.  A  truth  coming  to  us 
then  ought  to  be  especially  effective. 

If  you  are  on  a  railroad  train,  and  stop  at  the 
depot,  and  a  boy  comes  in  with  a  telegram,  all 
the  passengers  lean  forward  and  wonder  if  it  is 
for  them.  It  may  be  news  from  home.  It  must 
be  urgent  or  it  would  not  be  brought  there.  Now, 
if  while  we  are  rushing  on  in  the  whirl  of  every- 
day excitement,  a  message  of  God  meets  us,  it 
must  be  an  urgent  and  important  message.  If  God 
speaks  to  us  in  a  meeting  mid-week,  it  is  because 
there  is  something  that  needs  to  be  said  before 
next  Sundav. 


Sabbath 

Evening 
Tea-table 


CHAPTER  LVII. 
THE  SABBATH  EVENIXG  TEA-TABLE. 

When  this  evening  comes  we  do  not  have  any 
less  on  our  table  because  it  is  a  sacred  day,  but  a 
little  more.  On  other  evenings  we  have  in  our 
dining-hall  three  of  the  gas-burners  lighted,  but 
on  Sabbath  evening  we  have  four.  We  try  to  have 
the  conversation  cheerfully  religious. 

After  the  children  are  sleepy  we  do  not  keep 
them  up  to  recite  the  "Larger  Catechism.  "  Dur- 
ing summer  vacation,  when  we  have  no  evening 
service  to  attend  at  church,  we  sometimes  have  a 
few  chapters  of  a  Christian  book  read  or  a  column 
of  a  Christian  newspaper,  or  if  any  one  has  an 
essay  on  any  religious  theme,  we  hear  that. 

We  tarry  long  after  the  tea  has  got  cold.  We  do 
not  care  if  the  things  are  not  cleared  off  till  next 
morning.  If  any  one  has  a  perplexing  passage  of 
Scripture  to  explain,  we  gather  all  the  lights  pos- 
sible on  that  subject.  We  send  up  stairs  for  con- 
cordance and  Bible  dictionary.  It  may  be  ten 
o'clock  at  night  before  the  group  is  disper.sed  from 
the  Sabbath  evening  tea-table. 

Some  of  the  chapters  following  may  be  consid- 
ered as  conversations  condensed  or  as  paragraphs 
read.  You  will  sometimes  ascribe  them  to  the  ho.st, 
at  other  times  to  the  hostess,  at  other  times  to  the 
strangers  within  the  gates. 

Old  Dominie  Scattergood  often  came  in  on  Sab- 
bath evenings.  He  was  too  old  to  preach,  and  so 
had  much  leisure.  Now,  an  old  minister  is  a  great 
joy  to  us,  especially  if  life  has  put  sugar  rather 
than  vinegar  in  his  disposition.  Dominie  Scatter- 
good  had  in  his  face  and  temper  the  smiles  of  all 


272  Around  the  Tea-table. 

the  weddings  he  had  ever  solemnized,  and  in  his 
handshaking  all  the  hearty  congratulations  that 
had  ever  been  offered  him. 

His  hair  was  as  white  as  any  snow-bank  through 
which  he  had  waded  to  meet  his  appointments. 
He  sympathized  with  every  one,  could  swing  from 
mood  to  mood  very  easily,  and  found  the  bridge 
between  laughter  and  tears  a  short  one  and  soon 
crossed.  He  was  like  an  orchard  in  October  after 
some  of  the  frosts,  the  fruit  so  ripe  and  mellow 
that  the  least  breeze  would  fill  the  laps  of  the  chil- 
dren. He  ate  scarcely  anything  at  the  tea-table, 
for  you  do  not  want  to  put  much  fuel  in  an  engine 
w^hen  it  has  nearly  reached  the  depot.  Old  Dom- 
inie Scattergood  gave  his  entire  time  to  religious 
discourse  when  he  sat  with  us  at  the  close  of  the 
Lord's  day. 

How  calm  and  bright  and  restful  the  light  that 
falls  on  the  Sabbath  evening  tea-table !  Blessed 
be  its  memories  for  ever  and  ever!  and  Jessie, 
and  De  Witt,  and  May,  and  Edith,  and  Frank, 
and  the  baby,  and  all  the  visitors,  old  and  young, 
thick-haired  and  bald-headed,  sav  Amen  I 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 
THE  WARM  HEART  OF  CHRIST. 

The  first  night  that  old  Dominie  Scattergood  sat 
at  our  tea-table,  we  asked  him  whether  he  could 
make  his  religion  work  in  the  insignificant  affairs 
of  life,  or  whether  he  was  accustomed  to  apply 
his  religion  on  a  larger  scale.  The  Dominie  turned 
upon  us  like  a  day-dawn,  and  addressed  us  as 
follows : 

There  is  no  warmer  Bible  phrase  than  this: 
* '  Touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities. ' ' 
The  Divine  nature  is  so  vast,  and  the  human  so 
small,  that  we  are  apt  to  think  that  they  do  not 
touch  each  other  at  any  point.  We  might  have 
ever  so  many  mishaps,  the  government  at  Wash- 
ington would  not  hear  of  them,  and  there  are 
multitudes  in  Britain  whose  troubles  Victoria 
never  knows ;  but  there  is  a  throne  against  which 
strike  our  most  insignificant  perplexities.  What 
touches  us,  touches  Christ.  What  annoys  us,  an- 
noys Christ.  What  robs  us,  robs  Christ.  He  is 
the  great  nerve-centre  to  which  thrill  all  sensa- 
tions which  touch  us  who  are  his  members. 

He  is  touched  with  our  physical  infirmities.  I 
do  not  mean  that  he  merely  sympathizes  with  a 
patient  in  collapse  of  cholera,  or  in  the  delirium 
of  a  yellow  fever,  or  in  the  anguish  of  a  broken 
back,  or  in  all  those  annoyances  that  come  from 
a  disordered  nervous  condition.  In  our  excited 
American  life  sound  nerves  are  a  rarity.  Human 
sympathy  in  the  case  I  mention  amounts  to  noth- 
ing. Your  friends  laugh  at  you  and  say  you  have 
"the  blues,"  or  "the  high  strikes,"  or  "the 
dumps,"   or   "the  fidgets."      But   Christ  never 

273 


274  Around  the  Tea-table. 

laughs  at  the  whims,  the  notions,  the  conceits, 
the  weaknesses,  of  the  nervously  disordered! 
Christ  probably  suffered  in  something  like  this 
way,  for  He  had  lack  of  sleep,  lack  of  rest,  lack  of 
right  food,  lack  of  shelter,  and  His  temperament 
was  finely  strung. 

Chronic  complaints,  the  rheumatism,  the  neu- 
ralgia, the  dyspepsia,  after  a  while  cease  to  excite 
human  sympathy,  but  with  Christ  they  never  be- 
come an  old  story.  He  is  as  sympathetic  as  when 
you  felt  the  first  twinge  of  inflamed  muscle  or 
the  first  pang  of  indigestion.  When  you  cannot 
sleep,  Christ  keeps  awake  with  you.  All  the 
pains  you  ever  had  in  your  head  are  not  equal  to 
the  pains  Christ  had  in  His  head.  All  the  acute 
suff'ering  you  ever  had  in  your  feet  is  not  equal 
to  the  acute  suffering  Christ  had  in  His  feet.  By 
His  own  hand  He  fashioned  your  every  bone, 
strung  every  nerve,  grew  every  eyelash,  set  every 
tooth  in  its  socket,  and  your  every  physical  dis- 
order is  patent  to  Him,  and  touches  His  sympa- 
thies. 

He  is  also  touched  with  the  infirmities  of  our 
prayers.  Nothing  bothers  the  Christian  more  than 
the^  imperfections  of  his  prayers.  His  getting 
down  on  his  knees  seems  to  be  the  signal  for  his 
thoughts  to  fly  every  whither.  While  praying 
about  one  thing  he  is  thinking  about  another. 
Could  you  ever  keep  your  mind  ten  minutes  on 
one  supplication?  I  never  could.  While  you  are 
praying,  your  store  comes  in,  your  kitchen  comes 
in,  your  losses  and  gains  come  in.  The  minister 
spreads  his  hands  for  prayer,  and  you  put  your 
head  on  the  back  of  the  pew  in  front,  and  travel 
round  the  world  in  five  minutes. 

A  brother  rises  in  prayer-meeting  to  lead  in 
supplication.  After  he  has  begun,  the  door  slams, 
and  you  peep  through  your  fingers  to  see  who  is 
coming  in.     You  sav  to  vourself,  "What  a  finelv 


Th  e  I  Va  rm  Hea  rt  of  Ch  rist.  275 

expressed  prayer,  or  what  a  blundering  specimen  I 
But  how  long  he  keeps  on !  Wish  he  would  stop ! 
He  prays  for  the  world's  conversion.  I  wonder 
how  much  he  gives  toward  it?  There!  I  don't 
think  I  turned  the  gas  down  in  the  parlor! 
Wonder  if  Bridget  has  got  home  yet?  Wonder  if 
they  have  thought  to  take  that  cake  out  of  the 
oven?  Oh  what  a  fool  I  was  to  put  my  name  on 
the  back  of  that  note !  Ought  to  have  sold  those- 
goods  for  cash  and  not  on  credit!"  And  so  you 
go  on  tumbling  over  one  thing  after  another  until 
the  gentleman  closes  his  prayer  with  Amen!  and 
you  lift  up  your  head,  saying,  ''There!  I  haven't 
prayed  one  bit.  I  am  not  a  Christian!"  Yes, 
you  are,  if  you  have  resisted  the  tendency.  Christ 
knows  how  much  you  have  resisted,  and  how 
thoroughly  we  are  disordered  of  sin,  and  He  will 
pick  out  the  one  earnest  petition  from  the  rub- 
bish and  answer  it.  To  the  very  depth  of  His 
nature  He  sympathizes  with  the  infirmity  of  our 
prayers. 

He  is  touched  with  the  infirmity  of  our  temper. 

There  are  some  who,  notwithstanding  all  that 
is  said  or  done  to  them  can  smile  back.  But  many 
of  you  are  so  constructed  that  if  a  man  insults 
you,  you  either  knock  him  down  or  wish  you 
could.  While  with  all  resolution  and  prayer  you. 
resist  this,  remember  that  Christ  knows  how  much 
you  have  been  lied  about,  and  misrepresented, 
and  trod  on.  He  knows  that  though  you  said 
something  that  was  hot,  you  kept  back  something- 
that  was  ten  times  hotter.  He  takes  into  account 
your  explosive  temperament.  He  knows  that  it 
requires  more  skill  to  drive  a  fiery  span  than  a 
tame  roadster.  He  knows  how  hard  you  have 
put  down  the  "brakes"  and  is  touched  with  the 
feeling  of  your  infirmity. 

Christ  also  sympathizes  with  our  poor  efforts  at 
doing  good. 


276  Around  the  Tea-table. 

Our  work  does  not  seem  to  amount  to  much. 
We  teach  a  class,  or  distribute  a  bundle  of  tracts, 
or  preach  a  sermon,  and  we  say,  "Oh,  if  I  had 
done  it  some  other  way!"  Christ  will  make  no 
record  of  our  bungling  way,  if  w«  did  the  best 
we  could.  He  will  make  record  of  our  intention 
and  the  earnestness  of  our  attempt.  We  cannot, 
get  the  attention  of  our  class,  or  we  break  down 
in  our  exhortation,  or  our  sermon  falls  dead,  and 
we  go  home  disgusted,  and  sorry  we  tried  to 
speak,  and  feel  Christ  is  afar  off.  Why,  He  is 
nearer  than  if  we  had  succeeded,  for  He  knows 
that  we  need  sympathy,  and  is  touched  with  our 
infirmity. 

It  is  comforting  to  know  that  it  is  not  the 
learned  and  the  great  and  the  eloquent  that  Christ 
seems  to  stand  closest  by.  The  "Swamp-angel" 
was  a  big  gun,  and  made  a  stunning  noise,  but  it 
burst  before  it  accomplished  anything,  while 
many  an  humble  rifle  helped  decide  the  contest. 
Chri'st  made  salve  out  of  spittle  to  cure  a  blind 
man,  and  the  humblest  instrumentality  may, 
under  God,  cure  the  blindness  of  the  soul.  Blessed 
be  God  for  the  comfort  of  His  gospel '. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 
SACRIFICING  EVERYTHING. 

Ourselves. — Dominie  Scattergood,  why  did 
Christ  tell  the  man  inquiring  about  his  soul  to 
sell  all  he  had  and  give  everything  to  the  poor? 
Is  it  necessary  for  one  to  impoverish  himself  in. 
order  to  be  a  Christian? 

The  Dominie. — You  mistake  the  purport  of 
Christ's  remark.  He  was  not  here  teaching  the 
importance  of  benevolence,  but  the  duty  of  self- 
conquest.  That  young  man  had  an  all  absorbing 
love  of  wealth.  Money  was  his  god,  and  Christ  is 
not  willing  to  occupy  the  throne  conjointly  with 
any  other  1;leity.  This  was  a  case  for  what  the 
doctors  call  heroic  treatment.  If  a  physician 
meet  a  case  of  unimportant  sickness,  he  prescribes 
a  mild  curative,  but  sometimes  he  comes  to  a  room 
where  the  case  is  almost  desperate ;  ordinary  medi- 
cine would  not  touch  it.  It  is  "kill  or' cure,  " 
and  he  treats  accordingly.  This  young  man  that 
Christ  was  medicating  was  such  a  case.  There 
did  not  seem  much  prospect,  and  He  gives  him 
this  powerful  dose,  "Sell  all  that  thou  hast  and 
give  to  the  poor!" 

It  does  not  follow  that  we  must  all  do  the  same, 
any  more  than  because  belladonna  or  arsenic  is 
administered  in  one  case  of  illness  we  should 
therefore  all  go  to  taking  belladonna  or  arsenic. 
Because  one  man  in  the  hospital  must  have  his 
arm  amputated  all  the  patients  need  not  expect 
amputation.  The  silliest  thing  that  business-men 
could  do  would  be  to  give  all  their  property  away 
and  turn  their  families  into  the  street.  The  most 
Christian   thing  for  you  to  do   is  to  invest  your 

277 


278  Aro2ind  the  Tea-table. 

money  in  the  best  way  possible,  and  out  of  your 
business,  industriously  carried  on,  to  contribute 
the  largest  possible  percentage  to  the  kingdom  of 
Ood. 

Still,  we  must  admire  the  manner  in  which  the 
"Great  Physician  took  the  diagnosis  of  this  man's 
case  and  grappled  it.  We  all  need  heroic  spiritual 
treatment.  We  do  not  get  well  of  sin  because  we 
do  not  realize  what  a  dire  disease  it  is,  and  that 
we  cannot  cure  it  with  a  spiritual  panacea,  a 
gentle  antidote,  a  few  grains  of  spiritual  mor- 
phine, a  mild  moral  corrective  or  a  few  drops  of 
peppermint  on  white  sugar. 

We  want  our  pride  killed,  and  we  read  an  essay 
•on  that  sweet  grace  of  humility,  and  we  go  on  as 
proud  as  ever.  The  pleasant  lozenge  does  not  do 
the  work.  Rather  let  us  set  ourselves  to  do  that 
for  Christ  which  is  most  oppugnant  to  our  natural 
feelings.  You  do  not  take  part  in  prayer-meeting 
because  you  cannot  pray  like  Edward"^  Payson,  or 
exhort  like  John  Summerfield.  If  you  want  to 
crush  your  pride,  get  up  anyhow,  though  your 
knees  knock  together,  and  your  tongue  catches 
fast,  and  you  see  some  godless  hearer  in  prayer- 
meeting  laughing  as  though  she  would  burst. ' 

Deal  with  your  avarice  in  the  same  heroic  style. 
Having  heard  the  charitable  cause  presented*  at 
the  first  right  impulse  thrust  your  hand  in  your 
pocket  where  the  money  is,  and  pull  it  out  though 
it  half  kills  you.  Pull  till  it  comes.  Put  it  on 
the  plate  with  an  emphasis,  and  turn  your  face 
away  before  you  are  tempted  to  take  it  back  again. 
All  your  sweet  contemplation  about  benevolence 
M'ill  not  touch  your  case.  Heroic  treatment  or 
nothing! 

In  the  same  way  destroy  the  vindictiveness  of 
your  nature.  Treatises  on  Christian  brotherhood 
-are  not  what  you  need.  Select  the  man  most  dis- 
agreeable to  you,  and  the  one  who  has  said  the 


Sacrificing  Everything.  279 

hardest  things  about  you.  Go  up  and  shake  hands 
with  him,  and  ask  him  how  his  family  is,  and 
how  his  soul  prospers.  All  your  enmities  will  fly 
like  a  flock  of  quails  at  the  bang  of  a  rifle. 

We  treat  our  sins  too  politely.  We  ought  to  call 
them  by  their  right  names.  Hatred  to  our  neigh- 
Vjor  should  not  be  called  hard  thoughts,  but  mur- 
der: "whoso  hateth  his  brother  is  a  murderer  I" 
Sin  is  abominable.  It  has  tusks  and  claws,  and 
venom  in  its  bite,  and  death  in  its  stroke.  Mild 
treatment  will  not  do.  It  is  loathsome,  filthy  and 
disgusting.  If  we  Vjid  a  dog  in  gentle  words  to  go 
■out  of  the  house,  he  will  lie  down  under  the  table. 
It  wants  a  sharp  voice  and  a  determined  manner 
to  make  him  clear  out,  and  so  sin  is  a  vile  cur 
that  cannot  be  ejected  by  any  conservative  x>olicy. 
It  must  be  kicked  out  I 

Alas  for  the  young  man  of  the  text  I  He  refused 
Christ's  word  and  went  away  to  die,  and  there 
are  now  those  who  cannot  submit  to  Christ's 
•command,  and  after  fooling  their  time  away  with 
moral  elixirs  suddenly  relapse  and  perish.  '  They 
might  have  been  cured,  but  would  not  take  the 
medicine. 


CHAPTER  LX. 
THE  YOUNGSTERS  HAVE  LEFT. 

The  children  after  quitting  the  tea-table  were 
too  noisy  for  Sabbath  night,  and  some  things 
were  said  at  the  table  critical  of  their  behavior, 
when  old  Dominie  Scattergood  dawned  upon  the 
subject  and  said : 

We  expect  too  much  of  our  children  when  they 
become  Christians.  Do  not  let  us  measure  their 
qualifications  by  our  own  bushel.  We  ought  not 
to  look  for  a  gravity  and  deep  appreciation  of 
eternal  things  such  as  we  find  in  grown  persons. 
We  have  seen  old  sheep  in  the  pasture-field  look 
anxious  and  troubled  because  the  lambs  would 
frisk. 

No  doubt  the  children  that  were  lifted  by  their 
mothers  in  Christ's  arms,  and  got  His  blessing, 
five  minutes  after  He  set  them  down  were  as  full 
of  romp  as  before  they  came  to  Him.  The  boy 
that  because  he  has  become  a  Christian  is  dis- 
gusted with  ball-playing,  the  little  girl  who  be- 
cause she  has  given  her  heart  to  God  has  lost  her 
interest  in  her  waxen-doll,  are  morbid  and  un- 
healthy. You  ought  not  to  set  the  life  of  a 
vivacious  child  to  the  tune  of  Old  Hundred. 

When  the  little  ones  come  before  you  and  apply 
for  church  membership,  do  not  puzzle  them  with 
big  words,  and  expect  large  ' '  experiences.  * '  It 
is  now  in  the  church  as  when  the  disciples  of  old 
told  the  mothers  not  to  bother  Christ  with  their 
babes.  As  in  some  households  the  grown  people 
eat  first,  and  the  children  have  to  wait  till  the 
second  table,  so  there  are  persons  who  talk  as 
though  God  would  have  the  grown  people  first  sit 

280 


The  Youngsters  Have  Left.  28 1 

down  at  His  banquet;  and  if  there  is  anything 
over  the  little  ones  may  come  in  for  a  share. 

No,  no!  If  the  supply  at  the  Lord's  table  were 
limited,  ?Ie  would  let  the  children  come  in  first 
and  the  older  ones  go  without,  as  a  punishment 
for  not  having  come  in  while  they  themselves 
were  children.  If  the  wind  is  from  the  north- 
east, and  the  air  is  full  of  frost  antl  snow,  and 
part  of  the  flock  must  be  left  out  on  the  mountains, 
let  it  be  the  old  sheep,  for  they  can  stand  it 
better  than  the  lambs.  O  Shepherd  of  Israel, 
crowd  them  all  in  before  the  coming  of  the  tem- 
pest ! 

Myself. — Dominie  Scattergood,  what  do  you 
think  of  this  discussion  in  the  papers  on  the  sub- 
ject of  liturgies? 

Scattergood. — I  know  there  has  been  much  talk 
of  late  about  liturgies  in  the  churches,  and 
whether  or  not  audiences  should  take  audible  part 
in  religious  service.  While  others  are  discussing 
that  point,  let  me  say  that  all  the  service  of  the 
Church  ought  to  be  responsive  if  not  with  audiVjle 
"Amen,"  and  unanimous  "Good  Lord,  deliver 
us,"  then  with  hearty  outburst  of  soul. 

Let  not  the  prayer  of  him  that  conducts  public 
service  go  up  solitary  and  alone,  but  accompanied 
by  the  heartfelt  ejaculation  of  all  the  auditory. 
We  sit  down  on  a  soft  cushion,  in  a  pew  by  archi- 
tectural skill  arranged  to  fit  the  shape  of  our  back, 
and  are  tempted  to  fall  into  unprofitable  reveries. 
Let  the  effort  be  on  the  part  of  every  minister  to 
make  the  prayer  and  the  Scripture-reading  and 
the  giving  out  of  the  hymn  so  emphatic  that  the 
audience  cannot  help  but  respond  with  all  the 
soul. 

Let  the  minister,  before  going  into  the  pulpit, 
look  over  the  whole  field  and  recall  what  are  tlie 
styles  of  bereavement  in  the  congregation^ 
whether  they  be  widowhood,  orphanage  or  child- 


282  Around  the  Tea-table. 

ic'ssness ;  what  are  the  kinds  of  temporal  loss  his 
people  may  recently  have  suffered — whether  in 
health,  in  reputation  or  estate ;  and  then  get  ])otii 
his  shoulders  under  these  troubles,  and  in  his 
l^rayer  give  one  earnest  and  tremendous  lift,  and 
there  will  be  no  dullness,  no  indifference,  no  lack 
of  multitudinous  response. 

The  reason  that  congregations  have  their  heads 
bobbing  about  in  prayer-time  is  because  the  offi- 
ciating clergyman  is  apt  to  petition  in  the  abstract. 
He  who  calls  the  troubles  of  his  people  by  their 
right  names,  and  tenderly  lays  hold  of  the  can- 
cc-rs  of  the  souls  before  him,  will  not  lack  in 
getting  immediate  heartfelt,  if  not  audible,  re- 
sponse. 

While  we  have  not  as  much  interest  in  the 
agitated  question  of  liturgies  as  would  make  us 
say  ten  words  about  it,  we  are  interested  more 
tlian  we  can  tell  in  the  question,  How  shall  the 
officiating  ministers,  in  all  the  churches,  give  so 
nmch  point,  and  adaptedness,  and  vigor  and 
b!ood-red  earnestness  of  soul  to  their  public  de- 
votions as  shall  make  all  the  people  in  church  feel 
that  it  is  the  stiTiggle  for  their  immortal  life  in 
which  the  pastor  Ts  engaged?  Whether  it  be  in 
tones  that  strike  the  ear,  or  with  a  spiritual  em- 
phasis heard  only  in  the  silent  corridor  of  the 
heart,  let  all  the  people  say  Amen ! 

Myself. — What  do  you  think^  Dominie,  about 
all  this  talk  about  sensationalism  in  the  pulpit? 

Scattergood. — As  far  as  I  can  understand,  it 
eeems  to  be  a  war  between  stagnation  and  sensa- 
tionalism, and  I  dislike  both. 

I  do  not  know  which  word  is  the  worst.  It  is 
the  national  habit  in  literature  and  religion  to 
call  that  sensationalism  which  we  ourselves  can- 
not do.  If  an  author  write  a  book  that  will  not 
sell,  he  is  apt  to  charge  the  books  of  the  day 
which  do  succeed  as  being  sensational.      There 


Ths  Youngsters  Have  Left,  283 

are  a  great  many  men  who,  in  the  world  and  the 
Church,  are  dead  failures,  who  spend  their  time 
in  letting  the  public  know  that  they  are  not 
sensationalists.  The  fact  is  that  they  never 
made  any  stir  while  living,  nor  will  they  in 
dying,  save  as  they  rob  the  undertaker  of  his 
fees,  they  not  leaving  enough  to  pay  their  dis- 
mission expenses. 

I  hate  sensationalism  in  the  pulpit  so  far  as  that 
word  means  the  preaching  of  everything  but  the 
gospel,  but  the  simple  fact  is  that  whenever  and 
wherever  faith  and  repentance  and  heaven  and 
hell  are  proclaimed  with  emphasis  there  will  be 
a  sensation.  The  people  in  our  great  cities  are 
hungry  for  the  old  gospel  of  Christ.  If  our  young 
men  in  the  ministry  want  large  audiences,  let 
them  quit  philosophizing,  and  hair-splitting,  and 
botanizing,  and  without  gloves  take  hold  of  men's 
sins  and  troubles,  and  there  will  be  no  lack  of 
hearers.  Stagnation  is  worse  than  sensationalism. 

I  have  always  noticed  that  just  in  proportion  as 
a  man  cannot  get  along  himself  he  is  fearful  of 
some  one  else  making  an  excitement.  Last  week 
a  mud-turtle  down  by  the  brook  opened  its  shell 
and  discoursed  to  a  horse  that  was  coming  down 
to  drink.  The  mud-turtle  said  to  the  horse :  '  *  Just 
as  I  get  sound  asleep  you  are  sure  to  come  past 
and  wake  me  up.  We  always  used  to  have  a  good 
quiet  time  down  here  in  the  swamp  till  you  got  in 
the  habit  of  thumping  along  this  way.  I  am  con- 
servative and  like  to  keep  in  my  shell.  I  have  been 
pastor  of  thirteen  other  mud-turtles,  and  we  al- 
ways had  peace  until  you  came,  and  next  week  at 
our  semi-annual  meeting  of  mud-turtles  we  shall 
either  have  you  voted  a  nuisance  or  will  talk  it 
over  in  private,  eight  or  ten  of  us,  which  will 
probably  be  the  more  prudent  way."  Then  the 
mud-turtle's  shell  went  shut  with  a  snap,  at  which 
the  horse  kicked  up  his  heels  as  he  turned  to  go 


284  Around  the  Tea-table. 

up  to  the  barn  to  be  harnessed  to  a  load  of  corn 
that  was  ready  for  the  market. 

Let  us  all  wake  up  and  go  to  work.  There  are 
in  the  private  membership  of  our  churches  and  in 
the  ministry  a  great  many  men  who  are  dead, 
but  have  never  had  the  common  decency  to  get 
buried.  With  the  harvest  white  and  "lodging" 
for  lack  of  a  sickle,  instead  of  lying  under  the 
trees  criticising  the  sweating  reapers  who  are  at 
work,  let  us  throw  off  our  own  coat  and  go  out  to 
see  how  good  a  swathe  we  can  cut. 

Myself. — You  seem,  Dominie  Scattergood, 
though  you  have  been  preaching  a  great  while,  to 
be  very"^healthy  and  to  have  a  sound  throat. 

Scattergood. — Yes;  I  don't  know  any  reason 
why  ministers  should  not  be  as  well  as  other  per- 
son's. I  have  never  had  the  ministers'  sore  throat, 
but  have  avoided  it  by  the  observance  of  two  or 
three  rules  which  I  commend  to  you  of  less  ex- 
perience. The  drug  stores  are  full  of  troches, 
lozenges  and  compounds  for  speakers  and  singers. 
All  these  medicines  have  an  important  mission, 
but  how  much  better  would  it  be  to  avoid  the  ills 
than  to  spend  one's  time  in  trying  to  cure  them  I 

1.  Speak  naturally.  Let  not  incompetent  elo- 
cutionists or  the  barbarisms  of  custom  give  you 
tones  or  enunciations  at  war  with  those  that  (jod 
implanted.  Study  the  vocal  instrument  and  then 
play  the  best  tune  on  it  possible,  but  do  not  try 
to  make  a  flute  sound  like  a  trumpet,  or  a  bagpipe 
do  the  work  of  a  violin. 

2.  Remember  that  the  throat  and  lungs  were  no 
more  intended  to  speak  with  than  the  whole  body. 
If  the  vocal  organs  get  red  hot  during  a  religious 
service,  while  the  rest  of  the  body  does  not  sym- 
pathize with  them,  there  will  be  inflammation, 
irritation  and  decay.  But  if  the  man  shall,  by 
appreciation  of  some  great  theme  of  time  anii 
eternity,  go  into  it  with   all  his  body  and  soul, 


The   Youngsters  Have  Left.         285 

there  will  be  an  equalization  of  the  whole  physi- 
cal organism,  and  bronchitis  will  not  know 
whether  to  attack  the  speaker  in  his  throat,  right 
knee  or  left  ankle,  and  while  it  is  deciding  at 
what  point  to  make  assault  the  speaker  will  go 
scot-free.  The  man  who  besieges  an  audience 
only  with  his  throat  attempts  to  take  a  castle  with 
one  gun,  but  he  who  comes  at  them  with  head, 
eyts,  hand,  heart,  feet,  unlimbers  against  it  a 
whole  park  of  artillery.  Then  Sebastoj^ol  is  sure 
to  be  taken. 

Myself. — I  notice,  Dominie,  that  your  hand- 
writing is  not  as  good  as  your  health.  Your  letter 
in  reply  to  my  invitation  to  be  here  was  so  indis- 
tinct that  I 'could  not  tell  whether  it  was  an 
acceptance  or  a  declinature. 

.Scattergood. — Well,  I  have  not  taken  much  care 
of  my  autograph.  I  know  that  the  attempt  has 
-been  made  to  reduce  handwriting  to  a  science. 
Many  persons  have  been  busy  in  gathering  the 
signatures  of  celebrated  men  and  women.  A 
Scotchman,  by  the  name  of  Watson,  has  paid 
seventy-five  thousand  dollars  for  rare  autographs. 
Eev.  Dr.  Sprague,  of  Albany,  has  a  collection 
marvelous  for  interest. 

After  we  read  an  interesting  book  we  want  to 
see  the  author's  face  and  his  autograph.  But 
there  is  almost  always  a  surprise  or  disappoint- 
ment felt  when  for  the  first  time  we  come  upon 
the  handwriting  of  persons  of  whom  we  have 
heard  or  read  much.  We  often  find  that  the  bold, 
dashing  nature  sometimes  wields  a  trembling  pen, 
and  that  some  man  eminent  for  weakness  has  a 
defiant  penmanship  that  looks  as  if  he  wrote  with 
a  splinter  of  thunderbolt. 

1  admit  that  there  are  instances  in  which  the 
character  of  the  man  decides  the  style  of  his  pen- 
manship. Lord  Byron's  autograph  was  as  reckless 
as  its  author.  George  Washington's  signature  waa 


286  Around  the  Tea-table, 

a  reflection  of  his  dignity.  The  handwriting  of 
Samuel  Rogers  was  as  smooth  as  his  own  nature. 
Robespierre's  fierce-looking  autograph  seems  to 
have  been  written  with  the  dagger  of  a  French 
revolution. 

On  the  contrary,  one's  handwriting  is  often  the 
antipodes  of  his  character.  An  unreasonable 
schoolmaster  has  often,  by  false  instruction, 
cramped  or  ruined  the  pupil's  chirography  for 
ever.  If  people  only  knew  how  a  brutal  peda- 
gogue in  the  academy  used  to  pull  my  ears  while 
learning  to  write,  I  should  not  be  so  often  censured 
for  my  own  miserable  scribble.  I  defy  any  boy 
to  learn  successfully  to  make  "hooks  and  tram- 
mels" in  his  copy-book,  or  ever  after  learn  to 
trace  a  graceful  calligraphy,  if  he  had  '  *  old  Talyor' ' 
bawling  over  him.  I  hope  never  to  meet  that 
man  this  side  of  heaven,  lest  my  memory  of  the 
long-ago  past  be  too  much  for  the  sense  of  minis- 
terial propriety. 

There  are  great  varieties  of  circumstances  that 
influence  and  decide  the  autograph.  I  have  no 
faith  in  the  science  of  chirography.  I  could, 
from  a  pack  of  letters  in  one  pigeon-hole,  put  to 
rout  the  whole  theory.  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  he  who  judges  of  a  man's  character 
by  his  penmanship  makes  a  very  poor  guess.  The 
boldest  specimen  of  chirography  I  ever  received 
was  from  a  man  whose  wife  keeps  him  in  per- 
petual tremor,  he  surrendering  every  time  she 
looks  toward  the  broomstick. 

Myself. — What  do  you  think,  Dominie,  of  the 
fact  that  laymen  have  begun  to  preach?  and  what 
is  your  opinion  of  the  work  they  are  doing  in 
Scotland? 

For  the  first  time  in  many  a  day  the  old  Dom- 
inie grew  sarcastic,  and  saiS  : 

What  are  we  coming  to?  Get  out  your  fire- 
engines.     There  is  a  conflagration.     What  work 


The  Youngsters  Have  Left.  28 7 

Messrs.  Moody,  Sankey,  Phillips,  Bliss,  Jacobs, 
Burnell,  Durant  and  fifty  other  laymen  are  doing  I 
Wherever  they  go  they  have  large  concourses  of 
people,  and  powerful  revivals  of  religion  follow. 
Had  we  not  better  appoint  a  meeting  of  confer- 
ence or  presbytery  to  overhaul  these  men  who  are 
saving  souls  without  license?  No  !  What  we  want 
is  ten  thousand  men  just  like  them,  coming  up 
from  among  the  people,  with  no  professional  garb, 
and  hearts  hot  with  religious  fervor,  and  bound 
by  no  conventionalities  or  stereotyped  notions 
about  the  way  things  ought  to  be  done. 

I  have  a  sly  suspicion  that  the  layman  who  has 
for  seven  years  given  the  most  of  his  time  to  the 
study  of  the  truth  is  better  prepared  to  preach  the 
gospd  than  a  man  who  has  given  that  length  of 
time  in  theological  seminaries  to  the  study  of 
what  other  people  say  about  the  Bible.  In  other 
words,  we  like  water  just  dipped  from  the  spring, 
though  handed  in  a  gourd,  rather  than  water  that 
has  been  standing  a  week  in  a  silver  pitcher. 

After  Calvin  has  twisted  us  one  way,  and  Ar- 
minius  has  twisted  us  another,  and  we  get  our 
head  full  of  the  old  Andover  and  New  Haven 
theological  fights, and  the  difference  between  Ante- 
Nicene  Trinitarianism  and  Post-Nicene  Trini- 
tarianism,  it  is  a  luxury  to  meet  some  evangelist 
who  can  tell  us  in  our  common  mother-tongue  of 
Him  who  came  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which 
was  lost. 

I  say  let  our  learned  institutions  push  theologi- 
cal education  to  its  highest  excellency,  preparing 
men  for  spheres  which  none  but  the  cultured  and 
scholarly  are  fit  for,  but  somehow  let  us  beat  the 
drum  and  gather  a  battalion  of  lay-workers.  We 
have  enough  wise  men  to  tell  us  about  fishes, 
about  birds,  about  rocks,  about  stars — enough 
Ley  den  jars,  enough  telescopes,  enough  electric 
batteries ;  but  we  have  not  more  than  one  man 


288  Around  the  Tea-table. 

where  we  ought  to  have  a  hundred  to  tell  the 
story  of  Christ  and  the  soul. 

Some  cry  out,  ' '  It  is  dangerous  to  have  laymen 
take  such  prominent  positions  in  the  Church. ' ' 
Dangerous  to  what?  Our  dignity,  our  prerogatives, 
our  clerical  rights?  It  is  the  same  old  story.  If 
we  have  a  mill  on  the  stream,  we  do  not  want  some 
one  else  to  build  a  mill  on  the  same  stream.  It 
will  take  the  water  off  our  wheel.  But,  blessed 
"be  God!  the  river  of  salvation  is  deep  and  strong 
enough  to  grind  corn  for  all  nations. 

If  a  pulpit  is  so  weak  that  the  wave  of  religious 
zeal  on  the  part  of  the  laity  submerges  it,  then  let 
it  go  under.  We  cannot  expect  all  other  shipping 
to  forsake  the  sea  lest  they  run  down  our  craft. 
We  want  more  watchmen  on  the  wall,  more  senti- 
nels at  the  gate,  more  recruits  for  the  field.  Forward 
the  whole  Christian  laity !  Throw  up  no  barrier 
to  their  advancement.  Do  not  hang  the  Church 
until  dead  by  the  neck  with  "red-tape." 

I  laughed'  outright,  though  I  ought  to  have 
cried,  when  I  read  in  one  of  our  papers  a  state- 
ment of  the  work  of  Moody  and  Sankey  in  Edin- 
burgh, which  state:r  :^nt  closed  with  the  luscious 
remark  that  "Probaoiy  the  Lord  is  blessing  their 
work. ' '  I  never  saw  a 'word  put  in  more  awkward 
and  forced  and  pitiable  predicament  than  that 
word  probably.  While  heaven  and  earth  and  hell 
have  recognized  the  stupendous  work  now  going 
on  in  Scotland  under  God  and  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  these  American  evangelists,  a  cor- 
respondent thinks  that  probably  something  has 
happened. 

Oh  how  hard  it  is  to  acknowledge  that  men 
are  doing  good  if  they  do  not  work  in  our  way 
and  by  our  methods!  One's  heart  must  have  got 
awfully  twisted  and  near  being  damned  who  can 
look  on  a  great  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and 
have  any  use  for  probabilities.     The  tendency  is 


The  Youngsters  Have  Left.  289 

even  among  Christians  to  depreciate  that  which 
goes  on  independent  of  themselves  and  in  a  way 
oppugnant  to  their  personal  taste.  People  do  not 
like  those  who  do  a  thing  which  they  themselves 
have  not  been  able  to  accomplish. 

The  first  cry  is,  "The  people  converted  are  the 
lower  population,  and  not  the  educated."  We 
wonder  if  five  hundred  souls  brought  to  Christ 
from  the  ' '  Cowgate' '  and  * '  Coalhole, ' '  and  made 
kings  and  priests  unto  God,  and  at  last  seated  on 
thrones  so  high  they  will  not  be  able  to  reach 
down  with  their  foot  to  the  crown  of  an  earthly 
monarch,  is  not  worth  some  consideration? 

Then  the  cry  is,  ''They  will  not  hold  out." 
Time  only  will  show  that.  They  are  doing  all 
they  can.  You  cannot  expect  them  to  hold  out 
ten  years  in  six  weeks.  The  most  faithful  Chris- 
tians we  have  ever  known  were  brought  in  through 
revivals,  and  the  meanest,  stingiest,  dullest, 
hardest-to-get-on-with  Christians  have  joined 
when  the  church  was  dead. 

When  a  candidate  for  admission  comes  before 
session  in  revival  times,  I  ask  him  only  seven  or 
eight  questions  ;  but  when  he  comes  during  a  cold 
state  of  religion,  I  ask  him  twenty  questions,  and 
get  the  elders  to  ask  him  as  many  more.  In 
father  words,  I  have  more  faith  in  conversions 
under  special  religious  influence  than  under  ordi- 
nary. 

The  best  luck  I  ever  had  in  fishing  was  when  I 
<lropped  the  net  in  the  bay  and  brought  up  at  one 
haul  twenty  bluefish,  with  only  three  or  four 
moss-bunkers,  and  the  poorest  luck  I  ever  had  was 
when,  after  standing  two  hours  in  the  soggy 
meadow  with  one  hook  on  the  line,  I  felt  I  had  a 
bite,  and  began  to  pull,  more  and  more  persuaded 
of  the  great  size  of  the  captive,  until  I  flung  to 
the  shore  a  snapping-turtle.  As  a  gospel  fisherman 
I  would  rather  run  the  risk  of  a  large  haul  than 


290  Aro2ind  the  Tea- table. 

of  a  solitary  angling.  I  can  soon  sort  out  and  throw 
overboard  the  few  moss-bunkers. 

Oh  for  great  awakenings  all  over  Christendom ! 

We  have  had  a  drought  so  long  we  can  stand  a 
freshet.  Let  the  Hudson  and  the  Thames  and  the 
Susquehanna  rise  and  overflow  the  lowlands,  and 
the  earth  be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  God  as  the 
waters  fill  the  seas.  That  time  is  hastening,  prob- 
ably! 


CHAPTER  LXI. 
FAMILY  PRAYERS. 

Take  first  the  statement  that  unless  our  children 
are  saved  in  early  life  they  probably  never  will 
be.  They  who  go  over  the  twentieth  year  without 
Christ  are  apt  to  go  all  the  way  without  Him. 
Grace,  like  flower-seed,  needs  to  V)e  sown  in  spring. 
The  first  fifteen  years  of  life,  and  often  the  first 
six,  decide  the  eternal  destiny. 

The  first  thing  to  do  with  a  lamb  is  to  put  it  in 
the  arms  of  the  Great  Shepherd.  Of  course  we 
must  observe  natural  laws.  Give  a  child  excessive 
meat  diet,  and  it  will  grow  up  sensual,  and  cate- 
chism three  times  a  day,  and  sixty  grains  in  each 
dose,  won't  prevent  it.  Talk  much  in  your  child's 
presence  about  the  fashions,  and  it  will  be  fond 
of  dress,  notwithstanding  all  your  lectures  on 
humility.  Fill  your  house  witii  gossip,  and  your 
children  will  tattle.  Culture  them  as  much  a.s 
you  will,  but  give  them  plenty  of  money  to  spend, 
and  they  will  go  to  destruction. 

But  while  we  are  to  use  common  sense  in  every 
direction  respecting  a  child,  the  first  thing  is  to 
strive  for  its  conversion,  and  there  is  nothing 
more  potent  than  family  prayers.  Xo  child  ever 
gets  over  having  heard  parents  pray  for  him.  I 
had  many  sound  threshings  when  I  was  a  boy  (not 
as  many  as  I  ought  to  have  had,  for  I  was  the 
la.st  child  and  my  parents  let  me  off),  but  the 
most  memorable  scene  in  my  childhood  was  father 
and  mother  at  morning  and  evening  prayers.  I 
cannot  forget  it,  for  1  used  often  to  be  squirm- 
ing around  on  the  floor  and  looking  at  them  while 
they  were  praying.    Your  son  may  go  to  the  ends 

291 


292  Around  the  Tea-table. 

of  the  earth,  and  run  through  the  whole  catalogue 
of  transgression,  Ijut  he  will  remember  the  family- 
altar,  and  it  will  be  a  check,  and  a  call,  and  perhaps 
his  redemption. 

Family  prayers  are  often  of  no  use.  Perhaps 
they  are  too  hurried.  We  have  so  much  before  us 
of  the  day's  work  that  we  must  hustle  the  chil- 
dren together.  We  get  half  through  the  chapter 
before  the  family  are  seated.  We  read  as  if  we 
were  reading  for  a  wager.  We  drop  on  our  knees, 
are  in  the  second  or  third  sentence  before  they 
-all  get  down.  It  is  an  express  train,  with  amen 
for  the  first  depot.  We  rush  for  the  hat  and  over- 
coat, and  are  on  the  way  to  the  store,  leaving  the 
impression  that  family  prayers  are  a  necessary 
nuisance,  and  we  had  better  not  have  had  any 
gathering  of  the  family  at  all.  Better  have  given 
them  a  kiss  all  around ;  it  would  have  taken  less 
time  and  would  have  been  more  acceptable  to  God 
and  them. 

Family  prayers  often  fail  in  adaptedness.  Do 
not  read  for  the  morning  lesson  a  genealogical 
chapter,  or  about  Samson  setting  the  foxes'  tails 
on  tire,  or  the  prophecy  about  the  horses,  black 
and  red,  and  speckled,  unless  you  explain  why 
they  w^ere  speckled.  For  all  the  good  your  chil- 
dren get  from  such  reading,  you  might  as  well 
have  read  a  Chinese  almanac.  Eather  give  the 
story  of  Jesus,  and  the  children  climbing  into 
his  arms,  or  the  lad  with  the  loaves  and  fishes, 
or  the  Sea  of  Galilee  dropping  to  sleep  under 
Christ's  lullaby. 

Stop  and  ask  questions.  Make  the  exercise  so 
interesting  that  little  Johnny  will  stop  playing 
with  his  shoe-strings,  and  Jenny  will  quit  rub- 
bing the  cat's  fur  the  wrong  way.  Let  the  prayer 
"be  pointed  and  made  up  of  small  words,  and  no 
wise  information  to  the  Lord  about  things  He 
inows  without  vour  telling  Him.   Let  the  children. 


Fa7}iily  Prayers.  295 

feel  they  are  prayed  for.  Have  a  hymn  if  any  of 
you  can  s^ing.  Let  the  season  be  spirited,  ap- 
propriate and  gladly  solemn. 

Family  prayer  also  fails  when  the  whole  day  is 
not  in  harmony  with  it.  A  family  prayer,  to  be 
-VTorth  anything,  ought  to  be  twenty-four  hours 
long.  It  ought  to  give  the  pitch  to  all  the  day's 
work  and  behavior.  The  day  when  we  get  thor- 
oughly mad  upsets  the  morning  devotion.  The 
life  must  be  in  the  same  key  with  the  devotion. 

Family  prayer  is  infinitely  important.  If  you 
are  a  parent,  and  are  not  a  professor  of  religion, 
and  do  not  feel  able  to  compose  a  prayer,  get  some 
one  of  the  many  books  that  have  been  written, 
put  it  down  before  you,  and  read  prayers  for  the 
household.  God  has  said  that  He  will  "pour  out 
His  fury  upon  the  family  that  call  not  upon  His 
name. ' ' 

Prayer  for  our  children  will  be  answered.  My 
grandmother  was  a  praying  woman.  My  father's 
name  was  David.  One  day,  he  and  other  mem- 
bers of  the  family  started  for  a  gay  party.  Grand- 
mother said:  "Go,  David,  and  enjoy  yourself; 
but  all  the  time  you  and  your  brothers  and  sisters 
are  there,  I  will  be  praying  for  you. ' '  The^^  went, 
but  did  not  have  a  very  good  time,  knowing  that 
their  mother  was  praying  for  them. 

The  next  morning,  grandmother  heard  loud 
weeping  in  the  room  below.  She  went  down  and 
found  her  daughter  crying  violently.  What  was 
the  matter?  She  was  in  anxiety  about  her  soul — 
an  anxiety  that  found  no  relief  short  of  the  cross. 
Word  came  that  David  was  at  the  barn  in  great 
agony.  Grandmother  went  and  found  him  on 
the  barn  floor,  praying  for  the  life  of  his  soul. 

The  news  spread  to  the  neighboring  houses, 
and  other  parents  became  anxious  about  their 
children,  and  the  influence  spread  to  the  village 
of  Somerville,  and  there  was  a  great  turning  unto 


294  Around  the  Tea-table. 

<jrod ;  and  over  two  hundred  souls,  in  one  day, 
stood  up  in  the  village  church  to  profess  faith  in 
Christ.  And  it  all  started  from  my  grandmother's 
prayer  for  her  sons  and  daughters.  May  God  turn 
the  hearts  of  the  fathers  to  the  children,  and  the 
hearts  of  the  children  to  their  fathers,  lest  He 
<iome  and  smite  the  earth  with  a  curse ! 


CHAPTER  LXII. 
CALL  TO  SAILORS. 

One  of  the  children  asked  us  at  the  tea-table  if 
we  had  ever  preached  at  sea.  We  answered,  No ! 
but  we  talked  one  vSabbath,  mid-Atlantic,  to  the 
officers,  crew  and  passengers  of  the  steamship 
"China."  By  the  way,  I  have  it  as  it  was  taken 
down  at  the  time  and  afterward  appeared  in  a 
newspaper,  and  here  is  the  extract: 

No  persons  bound  from  New  York  to  Liverpool 
ever  had  more  cause  for  thanksgiving  to  God  than 
w^e.  The  sea  so  smooth,  the  ship  so  staunch,  the 
companionship  so  agreeable,  ail  the  circumstances 
so  favorable.  0  Thou  who  boldest  the  winds  in 
Thy  fist,  blessed  be  Thy  glorious  name  for  ever ! 

Englishmen,  Costa  Ricans,  Germans,  Spaniards, 
Japanese,  Irishmen,  Americans — gathered,  never 
to  meet  again  till  the  throne  of  judgment  is  lifted 
— let  us  join  hands  to-day  around  the  cross  of 
Jesus  and  calculate  our  "^ prospect  for  eternity. 
A  few  moments  ago  we  all  had  our  sea-glasses  up 
watching  the  vessel  that  went  by.  "What  is  her 
name?"  we  all  asked,  and  "Whither  is  she 
bound?" 

We  pass  each  other  on  the  ocean  of  life  to-day. 
We  only  catch  a  glimpse  of  each  other.  The 
question  is,  "Whither  are  we  bound?  For  harbor 
of  light  or  realm  of  darkness?"  As  we  decide 
these  questions,  we  decide  everything. 

No  man  gets  to  heaven  by  accident.  If  we  ar- 
rive there,  it  will  be  because  we  turn  the  helm, 
set  the  sail,  watch  the  compass  and  stand  on  the 
"lookout"  with  reference  to  that  destination. 
There  are  many  ways  of  being  lost — only  one  way 

295 


296  Around  the  Tea-table. 

of  being  saved  ;  Jesus  Christ  is  the  May.  He  comes 
across  the  sea  to-day,  His  feet  on  the  glass  of  the 
wave,  as  on  Galilee,  His  arm  as  strong,  His  voice 
as  soothing.  His  heart  as  warm.  Whosoever  will 
may  have  His  comfort,  His  pardon.  His  heaven. 

Officers  and  crew  of  this  ship,  have  you  not 
often  felt  the  need  of  divine  help?  In  the  hour 
of  storm  and  shipv.reck,  far  away  from  your 
homes,  have  you  not  called  for  heavenly  rescue? 
The  God  who  then  heard  thy  prayer  will  hear 
thee  now.  Risk  not  your  soul  in  the  great  future 
without  compass,  or  chart,  or  anchor,  or  helms- 
man. You  will  soon  have  furled  your  last  s.al, 
and  run  up  the  last  ratline,  and  weathered  the 
last  gale,  and  made  the  last  voyage.  What  next? 
Where  then  will  be  your  home,  who  your  com- 
panions, what  your  occupation? 

Let  us  all  thank  God  for  this  Sabbath  which 
has  come  to  us  on  the  sea.  How  beautifully  it 
bridges  the  Atlantic!  It  hovers  above  every 
barque  and  brig  and  steamer.  It  speaks  of  a 
Jesus  risen,  a  grave  conquered,  a  heaven  open. 
It  is  the  same  old  Sabbath  that  blessed  our  early 
days.  It  is  tropical  in  its  luxuriance,  but  all  its 
leaves  are  prayers,  and  all  its  blossoms  praise. 
Sabbath  on  the  sea !  How  solemn !  How  sugges- 
tive! Let  all  its  hours,  on  deck,  in  cabin,  in 
forecastle,  be  sacred. 

Some  of  the  old  tunes  that  these  sailors  heard 
in  boyhood  times  would  sound  well  to-day  float- 
ing among  the  rigging.  Try  "Jesus,  lover  of  my 
soul,"  or  "Come,  ye  sinners,  poor  and  needy," 
or  "There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood."  As 
soon  as  they  try  those  old  hymns,  the  memory  of 
loved  ones  would  come  back  again,  and  the  famil- 
iar group  of  their  childhood  would  gather,  and 
father  would  be  there,  and  mother  who  gave  them 
such  good  advice  when  they  came  to  sea,  and 
sisters  and  brothers  lon<j;  since  scattered  and  gone. 


Call  to  Sailors.  297 

Some  of  you  have  been  pursued  by  benedictions 
for  many  years.  I  care  not  how  many  knots  an 
liour  you  may  glide  along,  the  prayers  once  offered 
up  for  your  welfare  still  keep  up  with  you.  I 
care  not  on  what  shore  you  land,  those  benedic- 
tions stand  there  to  greet  you.  They  will  capture 
you  yet  for  heaven.  The  prodigal  after  a  while 
gets  tired  of  the  swine-herd  and  starts  for  home, 
and  the  father  comes  out  to  greet  him,  and  the 
old  homestead  rings  with  clapping  cymbals,  and 
quick  feet,  and  the  clatter  of  a  banquet.  If  the 
God  of  thy  childhood  days  should  accost  thee  with 
forgiving  mercy,  this  ship  would  be  a  Bethel,  and 
your  hammock"^ to-night  would  be  the  foot  of  the 
ladder  down  which  the  angels  of  God's  love 
would  come  trooping. 

Now,  may  the  blessing  of  God  come  down  upon 
officers  and  crew  and  passengers !  Whatever  our 
partings,  our  losses,  our  mistakes,  our  disasters  in 
life,  let  none  of  us  miss  heaven.  On  that  shore 
may  we  land  amid  the  welcome  of  those  who  have 
gone  before.  They  have  long  been  waiting  our 
arrival,  and  are  now  ready  to  conduct  us  to  the 
foot  of  the  throne.  Look,  all  ye  voyagers  for 
eternity !  Land  ahead  !  Weeping  may  endure  for 
a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morning. 

What  Paul  said  to  the  crew  and  passengers  on 
the  corn-ship  of  the  Mediterranean  is  appropriate 
here :  ' '  Now  I  exhort  you  to  be  of  good  cheer ! ' ' 
God  fit  us  for  the  day  when  the  archangel,  with 
one  foot  on  the  sea  and  the  other  on  the  land, 
shall  swear  by  Him  that  liveth  for  ever  and  ever 
that  time  shall  be  no  longer! 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 
JEHOSHAPHAT'S  SHIPPING. 

Your  attention  is  called  to  a  Bible  incident  that 
you  may  not  have  noticed.  Jehoshaphat  was 
unfortunate  with  his  shipping.  He  was  about  to 
start  another  vessel.  The  wicked  men  of  Ahaziah 
wanted  to  go  aboard  that  vessel  as  sailors.  Jeho- 
shaphat refused  to  allow  them  to  go,  for  the 
reason  that  he  did  not  want  his  own  men  to 
mingle  with  those  vicious  people. 

In  other  words,  he  knew  what  you  and  I  know 
very  well,  that  it  is  never  safe  to  go  in  the  same 
boat  with  the  wicked.  But  there  are  various 
applications  of  that  idea.  We  too  often  forget  it, 
and  are  not  as  wise  as  Jehoshaphat  was  when  he 
refused  to  allow  his  men  to  be  in  companionship 
in  the  same  boat  with  the  wicked  men  of  Ahaziah. 

The  principle  I  stated  is  appropriate  to  the  form- 
ation, in  the  first  place,  of  all  domestic  alliances. 
I  have  often  known  women  who  married  men  for 
the  purpose  of  reforming  them  from  dissipated 
habits.  I  never  knew  one  successful  in  the  under- 
taking. Instead  of  the  woman  lifting  the  man 
up,  the  man  drags  her  down.  This  is  inevitably 
the  case.  The  greatest  risk  that  one  ever  under- 
takes is  attempting  the  voyage  of  life  in  a  boat  in 
which  the  wicked  sail ;  'this  remark  being  most 
appropriate  to  the  young  persons  who  are  in  my 
presence.  It  is  never  safe  to  sail  with  the  sons 
of  Ahaziah.  The  aged  men  around  me  will  bear 
out  the  statement  that  I  have  made.  There  is  no 
exception  to  it. 

The  principle  is  just  as  true  in  regard  to  all 
business  alliances.     I  know  it   is  often  the  case 

298 


Jehoshaphaf  s  Shipping.  299 

that  men  have  not  the  choice  of  their  worldly 
associations,  but  there  are  instances  where  they 
may  make  their  choice,  and  in  that  case  I  wish 
them  to  understand  that  it  is  never  safe  to  go  in 
the  same  boat  with  the  vicious.  Xo  man  can 
afford  to  stand  in  associations  where  Christ  is 
maligned  and  scoffed  at,  or  the  things  of  eternity 
caricatured.  Instead  of  your  Christianizing  them, 
they  w^ill  heathenize  you.  While  you  propose  to 
lift' them  up,  they  will  drag  you  down.  It  is  a 
sad  thing  when  a  man  is  obliged  to  stand  in  a 
business  circle  where  men  are  deriding  the  reli- 
gion of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  For  instance, 
rather  than  to  be  associated  in  business  circles 
with  Frothinghamite  infidelity,  give  me  a  first- 
class  Mohammedan,  or  an  unconverted  Chinese, 
or  an  unmixed  Hottentot.  There  is  no  danger 
that  they  will  draw  me  down  to  their  religion. 

If,  therefore,  you  have  a  choice  when  you  go 
out  in  the  world  as  to  whether  you  will  be  asso- 
ciated in  business  circles  with  men  who  love  God, 
or  those  who  are  hostile  to  the  Christian  religion, 
you  might  better  sacrifice  some  of  your  financial 
interests  and  go  among  the  people  of  God  than 
risk  the  interests  of  your  immortal  soul. 

Jehoshaphat  knew  it  was  unsafe  for  his  men  to 
go  in  one  boat  with  the  men  of  Ahaziah,  and  you 
cannot  afford  to  have  business  associations  with 
tho.se  who  despise,  God,  and  heed  not  His  com- 
mandments. I  admit  the  fact  that  a  great  many 
men  are  forced  into  associations  they  despise,  ancl 
there  are  business  circles  in  which  we  are  com- 
pelled to  go  which  we  do  not  like,  but  if  you 
have  a  choice,  see  that  you  make  an  intelligent 
and  safe  one. 

This  principle  is  just  as  true  in  regard  to  social 
connections.  Let  no  young  man  or  woman  go  in 
a  social  circle  where  the  influences  are  vicious  or 
hostile  to  the  Christian  religion.    You  will  begin 


30D  Around  the  Tea-table. 

by  reproving  their  faults,  and  end  by  copying 
them.  Sin  is  contagious.  You  go  among  those 
who  are  profane,  and  you  will  be  profane.  You 
go  among  those  who  use  impure  language,  and 
you  will  use  impure  language.  Go  among  those 
who  are  given  to  strong  drink,  and  you  will 
inevitably  become  an  inebriate.  There  is  no 
exception  to  the  rule.  A  man  is  no  better  than 
the  company  he  continually  keeps. 

It  is  always  best  to  keep  ourselves  under  Chris- 
tian influences.  It  is  not  possible,  if  you  mingle 
in  associations  that  are  positively  Christian,  not 
to  be  made  better  men  or  women.  The  Christian 
people  with  whom  you  associate  may  not  be 
always  talking  their  religion,  but  there  is  some- 
thing in  the  moral  atmosphere  that  will  be  life  to 
your  soul.  You  thoose  out  for  your  most  intimate 
associates  eight  or  ten  Christian  people.  You 
mingle  in  that  association  ;  you  take  their  coun- 
sel ;  you  are  guided  by  their  example,  and  you 
live  a  useful  life,  and  die  a  happy  death,  and  go 
to  a  blessed  eternity.  There  is  no  possibility  of 
mistaking  it;  there  is  not  an  exception  in  all  the 
universe  or  ages — not  one. 

For  this  reason  I  wish  that  Christians  engage 
in  more  religious  conversation.  I  do  not  really 
think  that  Christian  talk  is  of  so  high  a  type  as 
it  used  to  be.  Some  of  you  can  look  back  to  your 
very  early  days  and  remember  how  the  neighbors 
used  to  come  in  and  talk  by  the  hour  about  Christ 
and  heaven  and  their  hopes  of  the  eternal  world. 
There  has  a  great  deal  of  that  gone  out  of  fashion. 

I  suppose  that  if  ten  or  fifteen  of  us  should 
happen  "to  come  into  a  circle  to  spend  the  even- 
ing, we  would  talk  about  the  late  presidential 
election,  or  the  recent  flurry  in  Wall  street,  and 
about  five  hundred  other  things,  and  perhaps  we 
would  not  talk  any  about  Jesus  Christ  and  our 
hopes  of  heaven.  "  That  is  not  Christianity ;  that 


Jehoshaphaf  s  Shippiyig.  301 

is  heathenism.  Indeed,  I  have  sometimes  been 
amazed  to  find  Christian  people  actually  lacking 
in  subjects  of  conversation,  "vvhile  the  two  persons 
knew  each  of  the  other  that  he  was  a  Chris- 
tian. 

You  take  two  Christian  people  of  thi.s  modern 
day  and  place  them  in  the  same  room  ( i  suppose 
the  two  men  may  have  no  worldly  subjects  in 
common).  What  are  they  talking  about?  There 
being  no  worldly  subject  common  to  them,  they 
are  in  great  stres's  for  a  subject,  and  after  a  long 
pause  Mr.  A  remarks:  "It  is  a  i^leasant  evening.  " 

Again  there  is  a  long  pause.  These  two  men, 
both  redeemed  by  the  Ijlood  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  heaven  above  them,  hell  beneath  them, 
eternity  before  them,  the  glorious  history  of  the 
Church  of  Jesus  Christ  behind  them,  certainly 
after  a  while  they  will  converse  on  the  sut)ject  of 
religion.  A  few  minutes  have  passed  and  Mr.  B 
remarks:  "Fine  autumn  we  are  having.  " 

Again  there  is  a  profound  quiet.  Now,  you 
suppose  that  their  religious  feelings  have  really 
been  dammed  back  for  a  little  while;  the  men 
have  been  postponing  the  things  of  Cod  and  eter- 
nity that  they  may  approach  the  subject  with 
more  deliberation,  and  you  wonder  what  useful 
thing  Mr.  B  will  say  to  Mr.  A  in  conversation. 

It  is  the  third  time,  and  perhaps  it  is  the  last 
that  these  two  Christian  men  will  ever  meet  until 
they  come  face  to  face  before  the  throne  of  God. 
They  know  it.  The  third  attempt  is  now  made. 
Mr. "a  says  to  Mr.    B:  "Feels  like  snow  I" 

My  opinion  is,  it  must  have  felt  more  like  ice. 
Oh,  how  little  real,  practical  religious  conversa- 
tion there  is  in  this  day  I  I  would  to  Cod  that 
we  might  get  back  to  the  old-time  Christianity, 
when  men  and  women  came  into  associations,  and 
felt,  "Here  I  must  use  all  the  influence  I  can  for 
Christ  upon  that  soul,  and  get  all  the  good  I  can. 


302  Around  the  Tea-table. 

This  may  be  the  last  opportunity  I  shall  have  in 
this  world  of  interviewing  that  immortal  spirit." 

But  there  are  Christian  associations  where  men 
and  women  do  talk  out  their  religion;  and  my 
advice  to  you  is  to  seek  out  all  those  things,  and 
remember  that  just  in  proportion  as  you  seek  such 
society  will  you  be  elevated  and  blessed.  After 
all,  the  gospel  boat  is  the  only  safe  boat  to  sail  in. 
The  ships  of  Jehoshaphat  went  all  to  pieces  at 
Eziongeber. 

Come  aboard  this  gospel  craft,  made  in  the  diy- 
dock  of  heaven  and  launched  nineteen  hundred 
years  ago  in  Bethlehem  amid  the  shouting  of  the 
angels.  Christ  is  the  captain,  and  the  children 
of  God  are  the  crew.  The  cargo  is  made  up  of 
the  hopes  and  joys  of  all  the  ransomed.  It  is  a 
ship  bound  heavenward,  and  all  the  batteries  of 
God  will  boom  a  greeting  as  we  sail  in  and  drop 
anchor  in  the  still  waters.  Come  aboard  that 
ship ;  it  is  a  safe  craft  I  The  fare  is  cheap !  It 
is  a  certain  harbor! 

The  men  of  Ahaziah  were  forbidden  to  come 
aboard  the  ships  of  Jehoshaphat,  but  all  the 
world  is  invited  to  board  this  gospel  craft.  The 
vessel  of  Jehoshaphat  went  to  pieces,  but  this 
craft  shall  drop  anchor  within  the  harbor,  and 
mountains  shall  depart,  and  hills  shall  be  removed, 
and  seas  shall  dry  up,  and  time  itself  shall  perish, 
but  the  mercy  of  the  Lord  is  from  everlasting  to 
everlasting  upon  them  that  fear  Him. 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 
ALL  ABOUT  MERCY. 

Benedict  XIII.  decreed  that  when  the  German 
Catholics  met  each  other,  they  should  always" 
give  the  following  salutation,  the  one  first  speak- 
ing saying,  ** Praised  be  Jesus  Christ,"  the  other 
responding,  *'For  ever,  amen,"  a  salutation  fit 
for  Protestants  whenever  they  come  together. 

The  word  "mercy"  is  usecl  in  the  Bible  two 
hundred  and  fourteen  times ;  it  seems  to  be  the 
favorite  word  of  all  the  Scriptures.  Sometimes 
it  glances  feebly  upon  us  like  dew  in  the  starlight ; 
then  with  bolder  hand  it  seems  to  build  an  arched 
bridge  from  one  storm-cloud  of  trouble  to  another ; 
and  then  again  it  trickles  like  a  fountain  upon 
the  thirst  of  the  traveler. 

The  finest  roads  I  ever  saw  are  in  Switzerland. 
They  are  built  by  the  government,  and  at  very 
short  intervals  you  come  across  water  pouring  out 
of  the  rocks.  The  government  provides  cups  for 
men  and  troughs  for  the  animals  to  drink  out  of. 
And  our  King  has  so  arranged  it  that  on  the  high- 
way we  are  traveling  toward  heaven,  ever  and 
anon  there  shall  dash  upon  us  the  clear,  sweet 
water  that  flows  from  the  eternal  Rock.  I  pro- 
p<j>se  to  tell  you  some  things  about  God's  mercy. 

First,  think  of  His  pardoning  mercy.  The 
gospel  finds  us  shipwrecked ;  the  wave  beneath 
ready  to  swallow  us,  the  storm  above  pelting  us, 
our  good  works  foundered,  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  getting  ashore  unhelped.  The  gospel  finds  us 
incarcerated;  of  all  those  who  have  been  in  thick 
dungeon  darkness,  not  one  soul  ever  escaped  by 
his  own  power.    If  a  soul  is  delivered  at  all,  it  is 

303 


304  Around  the  Tea-table. 

because  some  one  on  the  outside  shall  shove  the 
bolt  and  swing  op»en  the  door,  and  let  the  prisoner 
come  out  free. 

The  sin  of  the  soul  is  not,  as  some  would  seem 
to  think,  just  a  little  dust  on  the  knee  or  elbow 
that  you  can  strike  off  in  a  moment  and  without 
any  especial  damage  to  you.  Sin  has  utterly  dis- 
comfited us ;  it  has  ransacked  our  entire  nature ; 
it  has  ruined  us  so  completely  that  no  human 
power  can  ever  reconstruct  us ;  but  through  the 
darkness  of  our  prison  gloom  and  through  the 
storm  there  comes  a  voice  from  heaven,  saying, 
''I  will  abundantly  pardon." 

Then  think  of  His  restraining  mercy.  I  do  not 
believe  that  it  is  possible  for  any  man  to  tell  his 
capacity  for  crime  until  he  has  been  tested.  There 
have  been  men  Avho  denounced  all  kinds  of  frauds, 
who  scorned  all  mean  transactions,  who  would 
have  had  you  believe  that  it  was  impossible  for 
them  ever  to  be  tempted  to  dishonesty,  and  yet 
they  may  be  owning  to-day  the  chief  part  of  the 
stock  in*^the  Credit  Mobil ier. 

There  are  men  who  once  said  they  never  could 
be  tempted  to  intemperance.  They  had  no  mercy 
on  the  drunkard.  They  despised  any  man  who 
became  a  victim  of  strong  drink.  Time  passed 
on,  and  now  they  are  the  victims  of  the  bottle, 
so  far  gone  in  their  dissipation  that  it  is  almost 
impossible  that  they  ever  should  be  rescued. 

So  there  have  been  those  who  were  very  hard 
on  all  kinds  of  impurity,  and  who  scoffed  at 
unchastity,  and  who  said'  that  it  was  impossible 
that  they  should  ever  be  led  astray;  but  to-night 
they  are  in  the  house  whose  gates  are  the  gates  of 
hell!  It  is  a  very  dangerous  thing  for  a  man  to 
make  a  boast  and  say,  ''Such  and  such  a  sin  I 
never  could  be  tempted  to  commit. ' ' 

There  are  ten  thousand  hands  of  mercy  holding 
us  up ;  there  are  ten  thousand  hands  of  mercy 


All  About  Mercy.  305 

holding  us  back,  or  we  would  long  ago  have  gone 
over  the  precipice,  and  instead  of  sitting  to-niglit 
in  a  Christian  sanctuary,  amid  the  respected  and 
the  good,  our  song  would  have  been  that  of  the 
drunkard,  or  we  would  be  ' '  hail  fellows  well  met ' ' 
with  the  renegade  and  the  profligate.  Oh,  the 
restraining  mercy  of  God  !  Have  you  never  cele- 
brated it?    Have  you  never  rejoiced  in  it? 

Think  also  of  His  guiding  mercy.  You  have 
sometimes  been  on  a  journey,  and  come  to  where 
there  were  three  roads — one  ahead  of  you,  one  to 
the  right  and  one  to  the  left.  It  was  a  lonely 
place,  and  you  had  no  one  of  whom  to  ask  advice. 
You  took  the  left-hand  road,  thinking  that  was 
the  right  one,  but  before  night  you  found  out  your 
mistake,  and  yet  your  horse  was  too  exhausted 
and  you  were  too  tired  to  retrace  your  steps,  and 
the  iTiistake  vou  made  was  an  irretrievable  mis- 
take. 

You  come  on  in  life,  many  a  time,  and  find 
there  are  three  or  four  or  fifty  roads,  and  which 
one  of  the  fifty  to  take  you  do  not  know.  Let  me 
say  that  there  are  forty-nine  chances  out  of  fifty 
that  you  will  take  the  wrong  one,  unless  God 
directs  you,  since  it  is  a  great  deal  easier  to  do 
that  which  is  wrong  than  that  which  is  right,  our 
nature  being  corrupt  and  depraved. 

Blessed  be  God,  we  have  a  directory !  As  a  man 
lost  on  the  mountains  takes  out  his  map  and  sees 
the  right  road  marked  down,  and  makes  up  his 
mind  what  to  do,  so  the  Lord,  in  His  gospel  map, 
has  said:  "This  is  the  way,  walk  ye  in  it." 
Blessed  be  God  for  His  guiding  mercy! 

Think  also  of  the  comforting  mercy  of  God.  In 
the  days  when  men  lived  five  or  six  or  seven  hun- 
dred years,  I  suppose  that  troubles  and  misfor- 
tunes came  to  them  at  very  great  intervals.  Life 
did  not  go  so  fast.  There  were  not  so  many  vicis- 
situdes ;  there  was  not  so  much  jostling.    I  suppose 


3o6  Around  the  Tea-table. 

that  now  a  man  in  forty  years  will  have  as 
many  vexations  and  annoyances  and  hardships 
and  trials  and  temptations  as  those  antediluvians 
had  in  four  hundred  years. 

No  one  escapes.  If  you  are  not  wounded  in 
this  side,  you  must  be  wounded  in  that.  There 
are  foes  all  around  about  you.  There  is  no  one 
who  has  come  up  to  this  moment  without  having 
been  cleft  of  misfortunes,  without  having  been 
disappointed  and  vexed  and  outraged  and 
trampled  on. 

The  world  comes  and  tries  to  solace  us,  but  I 
think  the  most  impotent  thing  on  earth  is  human 
comfort  when  there  is  no  gospel  mixed  with  it. 
It  is  a  sham  and  an  insult  to  a  wounded  spirit — 
all  the  comfort  that  this  world  can  offer  a  man ; 
but  in  his  time  of  darkness  and  perplexity  and 
bereavement  and  persecution  and  affliction,  Christ 
comes  to  him  with  the  solace  of  His  Spirit,  and 
He  says:  ''Oh,  thou  tempted  one,  thou  shalt  not 
be  tempted  above  that  thou  art  able. ' '  He  tells 
the  invalid,  "There  is  a  land  where  the  inhabit- 
ants never  say,  'I  am  sick.'  "  He  says  to  the 
assaulted  one,  '  *  You  are  no  better  than  I  am ; 
they  maltreated  me,  and  the  servant  ought  not  to 
expect  to  have  it  easier  than  his  Lord." 

He  comes  to  the  bereaved  one  and  says :  ' '  I  am 
the  resurrection  and  the  life ;  he  that  believeth  in 
me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live. ' '  And 
if  the  trouble  be  intricate,  if  there  be  so  many 
prongs  to  it,  so  many  horns  to  it,  so  many  hoofs 
to  it,  that  he  cannot  take  any  of  the  other  prom- 
ises and  comforts  of  God's  word  to  his  soul,  he 
can  take  that  other  promise  made  for  a  man  in 
the  last  emergency  and  when  everything  else  fails : 
"All  things  work  together  for  good  to  those  that 
love  God.  "  Oh,  have  you  never  sung  of  the  com- 
forting mercy  of  God? 

Think  also  of  His  enthroning  mercy.    Notwith- 


All  About  Mercy,  307 

standing  there  are  so  many  comforts  in  Christ's 
gospel,  I  do  not  think  that  we  could  stand  the 
assault  and  rebuff  of  the  world  for  ever.  We  all 
were  so  weary  of  the  last  war.  It  seemed  an  if 
those  four  years  were  as  long  as  any  fifteen  or 
twenty  years  of  our  life.  But  how  could  we  endure 
one  hundred  years,  or  five  hundred  years,  or  a 
thousand  years,  of  earthly  assault?  Methinks  the 
spirit  would  wear  down  under  the  constant  chaf- 
ing and  the  assault  of  the  world. 

Blessed  be  God,  this  story  of  grief  and  trouble 
and  perplexity  will  come  to  an  end!  There  are 
twelve  gates  to  heaven,  and  they  are  all  gates  of 
mercy.  There  are  paths  coming  into  all  those 
gates,"  and  they  are  all  paths  of  mercy.  There  are 
bells  that  ring  in  the  eternal  towers,  and  they  are 
all  chimes  of  mercy.  There  are  mansions  prepared 
for  us  in  this  good  land  when  we  have  done  with 
the  toils  of  earth,  and  all  those  mansions  are  man- 
sions of  mercy.  Can  you  not  now  strike  upon 
your  soul,  saying,  "Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul, 
for  thy  pardoning  mercy,  for  thy  restraining 
mercy,  for  thy  guiding  mercy,  for  thy  comforting 
mercy,  for  thy  enthroning  mercy!" 


CHAPTER  LXV. 
UNDER  THE  CAMEL'S  SADDLE. 

Rachel  had  been  affianced  to  Jacob,  and  one  day 
while  her  father,  Laban,  was  away  from  home  she 
eloped  with  Jacob.  Laban  returned  home  and 
expressed  great  sorrow  that  he  had  not  been  there 
when  his  daughter  went  away,  saying  that  he 
would  have  allowed  her  to  go,  and  that  she  might 
have  been  accompanied  with  a  harp  and  the  dance 
and  with  many  beautiful  presents. 

Laban  started  for  Rachel  and  Jacob.  He  was 
very  anxious  to  recover  the  gods  that  had  been 
stolen  from  his  household.  He  supposed  that 
Rachel  had  taken  them,  as  she  really  had.  He 
came  up  in  the  course  of  a  few  days  to  the  party 
and  demanded  the  gods  that  had  been  taken  from 
his  house.  Jacob  knew  nothing  about  the  felony, 
but  Rachel  was  secreting  these  household  gods. 

Laban  came  into  the  tent  where  she  was,  and 
asked  for  them.  She  sat  upon  a  saddle  of  a  camel, 
the  saddle  having  been  laid  down  at  the  side  of 
the  tent,  and  under  this  camel's  saddle  were  the 
images.  Rachel  pretended  to  be  sick,  and  said 
she  could  not  rise.  Her  father,  Laban,  supposed 
that  she  told  the  truth,  and  looked  everywhere 
but  under  the  camel's  saddle,  where  really  the 
lost  images  were.  He  failed  in  the  search,  and 
went  back  home  without  them. 

It  was  a  strange  thing  for  Laban  to  do.  He  pre- 
tended to  be  a  worshiper  of  the  true  God.  What 
did  he  want  of  those  images?  Ah,  the  fact  was, 
that  though  he  worshiped  God,  he  worshiped  with 
only  half  a  heart,  and  he  sometimes,  I  suppose, 
repented  of  the  fact  that  he  worshiped  him  at  all, 

308 


Under  the  CameP  s  Saddle.  309 

and  really  had  a  hankering  after  those  old  gods 
which  in  his  earliest  days  he  had  worshiped.  And 
now  we  find  him  in  Rachel's  tent  looking  for 
them. 

Do  not  let  us,  however,  be  too  severely  critical 
of  Laban.  He  is  only  the  representative  of  thou- 
sands of  Christian  men  and  women,  who,  once 
having  espoused  the  worship  of  God,  go  back  to 
their  idols.  When  a  man  professes  faith  in  Christ 
on  communion-day,  with  the  sacramental  cup  in. 
his  hand,  he  swears  allegiance  to  the  Lord  God 
Almighty,  and  says,  "Let  all  my  idols  perish!" 
but  how  many  of  us  have  forsaken  our  fealty  to 
God,  and  have  gone  back  to  our  old  idols! 

There  are  many  w^ho  sacrifice  their  soul's  inter- 
ests in  the  idolatry  of  wealth.  There  was  a  time 
when  you  saw  the  folly  of  trying  with  money  to 
satisfy  the  longing  of  your  soul.  You  said,  when 
you  saw  men  going  down  into  the  dust  and  tussle 
of  life,  ''Whatever  god  I  worship,  it  won't  be  a 
golden  calf."  You  saw  men  plunge  into  the  life 
of  a  spendthrift,  or  go  down  into  the  life  of  a 
miser,  like  one  of  old  smothered  to  death  in  his 
own  money-chest,  and  you  thought,  *'I  shall  be 
very  careful  never  to  be  caught  in  these  traps  in 
which  so  many  men  have  fallen,  to  their  souls' 
eternal  discomfiture. ' ' 

But  you  went  down  into  the  world ;  you  felt 
the  force  of  temptation ;  you  saw  men  all  around 
you  making  money  very  fast,  some  of  them  sacri- 
ficing all  their  Christian  principle ;  you  felt  the 
fascination  come  upon  your  own  soul,  and  before 
you  knew  it,  you  were  with  Laban  going  down  to 
hunt  in  Rachel's  tent  for  your  lost  idols. 

On  one  of  our  pieces  of  money  you  find  the 
head  of  a  goddess,  a  poor  inscription  for  an 
American  coin ;  far  better  the  inscription  that 
the  old  Jews  put  upon  the  shekel,  a  pot  of  manna 
and  an  almond  rod,  alluding  to  the  mercy  and 


3IO  Around  the  Tea-table. 

deliverance  of  God  in  their  behalf  in  other  days. 
But  how  seldom  it  is  that  money  is  consecrated 
to  Christ !  Instead  of  the  man  owning  the  money, 
the  money  owns  the  man.  It  is  evident,  especially 
to  those  with  whom  they  do  business  every  day, 
that  they  have  an  idol,  or  that,  having  once  for- 
saken the  idol,  they  are  now  in  search  of  it,  far 
away  from  the  house  of  God,  in  Rachel's  tent 
looking  for  the  lost  images. 

One  of  the  migiity  men  of  India  said  to  his  ser- 
vants: "Go  not  near  the  cave  in  such  a  ravine. '' 
The  servants  talked  the  matter  over,  and  said: 
"There  must  be  gold  there,  or  certainly  this 
mighty  man  would  not  warn  us  -against  going. ' ' 
They  went,  expecting  to  find  a  pile  of  gold ;  they 
rolled  away  the  stone  from  the  door  of  the  cave, 
when  a  tiger  sprang  out  upon  them  and  devoured 
them. 

Many  a  man  in  the  search  of  gold  has  been 
craunched  in  the  jaws  of  destruction.  Going  out 
far  away  from  the  God  whom  they  originally  wor- 
shiped, they  are  seeking  in  the  "tent  of  Rachel, 
Laban's  lost  images. 

There  are  a  great  many  Christians  in  this  day 
renewing  the  idolatry  of  human  opinion.  There 
was  a  time  when  they  woke  up  to  the  folly  of 
listening  to  what  men 'said  to  them.  They  solilo- 
■quized  in  this  way:  "I  have  a  God  to  worship, 
and  I  am  responsible  only  to  Him.  I  must  go 
straight  on  and  do  my  whole  duty,  whether  the 
world  likes  it  or  don't  like  it;"  and  they  turned 
a  deaf  ear  to  the  fascinations  of  public  applause. 
After  a  while  they  did  something  verj^  popular. 
They  had  the  popular  ear  and  the  popular  heart. 
Men  approved  them,  and  poured  gentle  words  of 
flatten.^  into  their  ear,  and  before  they  realized 
it  they  went  into  the  search  of  that  which  they 
had  given  up,  and  were,  with  Laban,  hunting  in 
Rachel's  tent  for  the  lost  images. 


Undei'  the  CamePs  Saddle,  311 

Between  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock  one  June 
night,  Gibbon,  the  great  historian,  finished  his 
history.  Seated  in  a  summer  garden,  he  says  that 
as  he  wrote  the  last  line  of  that  wonderful  work  he 
felt  great  satisfaction.  He  closed  the  manuscript, 
walked  out  into  the  moonlight  in  the  garden,  and 
then,  he  said,  he  felt  an  indescriljable  melancholy 
come  upon  his  soul  at  the  thought  that  so  soon  he 
must  leave  all  the  fame  that  he  would  acquire  by 
that  manuscript. 

The  applause  of  this  world  is  a  verv  mean  god 
to  w^orship.  It  is  a  Dagon  that  falls  upon  its 
worshipers  and  crushes  them  to  death.  Alas  for 
those  who,  fascinated  by  human  applause,  give 
up  the  service  of  the  Lord  God  and  go  with  Laban 
to  hunt  in  Rachel's  tent  for  the  lost  images! 

There  are  many  Christians  being  sacrificed  to 
appetite.  There  was  a  time  when  they  said:  "I 
will  not  surrender  to  evil  appetites. ' '  For  a  while 
they  seemed  to  break  away  from  all  the  allure- 
ments by  which  they  were  surrounded,  but  some- 
times they  felt  that  they  were  living  upon  a  severe 
regimen. '  They  said:  ""After  all,  I  will  go  back 
to  my  old  bondage;"  and  they  fell  away  from  the 
house  of  God,  and  fell  away  from  respectability, 
and  fell  away  for  ever. 

One  of  the  kings  in  olden  times,  the  legend 
says,  consented  that  the  devil  might  kiss  him  on 
both  shouldei-s,  but  no  sooner  were  the  kisses  im- 
printed upon  the  shoulders  than  serpents  grew 
forth  and  began  to  devour  him,  and  as  the  king 
tried  to  tear  ofi"  the  serpents  he  found  he  was  tear- 
ing his  own  life  out.  And  there  are  men  who  are 
all  enfolded  in  adders  of  evil  appetite  and  passion 
that  no  human  power  can  ever  cru.sh ;  and  unless 
the  grace  of  God  seizes  hold  of  them,  these  adders 
will  become  "the  worm  that  never  dies."  Alas 
for  those  who,  once  having  broken  away  from  the 
mastery  of  evil  appetites  and  passion,  go  back  to 


312  Around  the  Tea-table. 

the  sins  that  they  once  renounced,  and,  with  Laban 
in  Rachel's  tent,  go  to  hunt  for  the  lost  images  I 

There  are  a  great  many  also  sacrificed  by  indo- 
lence. In  the  hour  of  their  conversion  they  looked 
off  upon  the  world,  and  said :  "Oh  how  much 
work  to  be  done,  how  many  harvests  to  be  gath- 
ered, how  many  battles  to  be  fought,  how  many 
tears  to  be  wiped  away,  and  how  many  wounds 
to  be  bound  up!"  and  they  looked  with  positive 
surprise  upon  those  who  could  sit  idle  in  the  king- 
dom of  God  while  there  was  so  much  work  to  do. 
After  a  while  they  found  their  efi"orts  were  unap- 
preciated, that  some  of  their  best  work  in  behalf 
of  Christ  was  caricatured  and  they  were  laughed 
at,  and  they  began  to  relax  their  effort,  and  the 
question  was  no  more,  "What  can  I  do  for 
Christ?"  but  "How  can  I  take  my  ease?  where 
can  I  find  my  rest?"  Are  there  not  some  of  you 
who  in  the  hour  of  your  consecration  started  out 
nobly,  bravely  and  enthusiastically  for  the  Sav- 
iour's kingdom  who  have  fallen  back  into  ease  of 
body  and  ease  of  soul,  less  anxious  about  the  sal- 
vation of  men  than  you  once  were,  and  are  actually 
this  moment  in  Rachel's  tent  hunting  up  the  lost 
images? 

Oh,  why  go  down  hunting  for  our  old  idols? 
We  have  found  out  they  are  insufficient  for  the 
soul.  Eyes  have  they,  but  they  see  not ;  ears  have 
they,  but  they  hear  not ;  and'  hands  have  they, 
but  they  handle  not.  There  is  only  one  God  to 
worship,  and  He  sits  in  the  heavens. 

How  do  I  know  that  there  is  only  one  God? 
I  know  it  just  as  the  boy  knew  it  when  his 
teacher  asked  him  how  many  Gods  there  are.  He 
said,  "There  is  but  one." 

' '  How  do  you  know  that?' '  inquired  the  teacher. 

The  boy  replied,  "There  is  only  room  for  one, 
for  He  fills  the  heavens  and  the  earth. ' ' 

Come  into  the  worship  of  that  God.     He  is  a 


Under  the  Ca mcT  s  Saddle.  313 

wise  God.  He  can  plan  out  all  the  affair?^  of  your 
life.  He  can  mark  out  all  the  steps  that  you 
ought  to  take.  He  will  put  the  sorrows  in  the 
right  place,  and  the  victories  in  the  right  place, 
and  the  defeats  in  the  right  place ;  and  coming  Xo 
the  end  of  your  life,  if  you  have  served  Him 
faithfully,  you  will  be  compelled  to  say,  "Just 
and  true  are  thv  wavs ;  thou  art,  0  Lord,  alwavs 
right." 

He  is  a  mighty  God.  Have  Him  on  your  side, 
and  you  need  not  fear  earth  or  hell.  He  can  ride 
down  all  your  spiritual  foes.  He  is  mighty  ta 
overthrow  your  enemies.  He  is  mighty  to  save 
your  soul.  Ay,  He  is  a  loving  God.  He' will  put 
the  arms  of  His  love  around  about  your  neck.  He 
will  bring  you  close  to  His  heart  and  shelter  you 
from  the  storm.  In  times  of  trouble  He  will  put 
upon  your  soul  the  balm  of  precious  promises. 
He  will  lead  you  all  through  the  vale  of  tears 
trustfully  and  happily,  and  then  at  last  take  you 
to  dwell  in  His  presence,  where  there  is  fullness 
of  joy,  and  at  His  right  hand,  where  there  are 
pleasures  for  evermore.  Oh,  compared  with  such 
a  wise  God,  such  a  mighty  God,  such  a  loving 
God,  what  are  all  the  images  under  the  camel's 
saddle  in  the  tent  of  Rachel? 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 
HALF-AND-HALF  CHURCHES. 

There  is  a  verse  in  Revelation  that  presents  a 
nauseated  Christ:  "Because  thou  art  lukewarm, 
and  neither  cold  nor  hot,  I  will  spew  thee  out  of 
my  mouth. ' ' 

After  we  have  been  taking  a  long  walk  on  a 
summer  day,  or  been  on  a  hunting  chase,  a  draught 
of  cold  water  exhilarates.  On  the  other  hand, 
after  standing  or  walking  in  the  cold  air  and  being 
chilled,  hot  water,  mingled  with  some  beverage, 
brings  life  and  comfort  to  the  whole  body ;  but 
tepid  water,  neither  hot  nor  cold,  is  nauseating. 

Now,  Christ  says  that  a  church  of  that  tempera- 
lure  acts  on  him  as  an  emetic :  I  will  spew  thee 
out  of  my  mouth. 

The  church  that  is  red  hot  with  religious  emo- 
tion, praying,  singing,  working,  Christ  having 
taken  full  possession  of  the  membership,  must  be 
to  God  satisfactory. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  frozen  church  may  have 
its  uses.  The  minister  reads  elegant  essays,  and 
improves  the  session  or  the  vestry  in  rhetorical 
composition.  The  music  is  artistic  and  improves 
the  ear  of  the  people,  so  that  they  can  better 
appreciate  concert  and  opera. 

The  position  of  such  a  church  is  profitable  to 
the  book-binder  who  furnishes  the  covers  to  the 
liturgj',  and  the  dry-goods  merchants  who  supply 
the  silks,  and  the  clothiers  who  furnish  the  broad- 
cloth. Such  a  church  is  good  for  the  business 
world,  makes  trade  lively  and  increases  the 
demand  for  fineries  of  all  sorts,  for  a  luxurious 
religion  demands  furs  and   coats,  and  gaiters  to 

314 


Half-and- Half  Churches.  315 

match.     Christ  says  he  gets  along  with  a  church, 
cold  or  hot. 

But  an  unmitigated  nuisance  to  God  and  man 
is  a  half-and-half  church,  with  piety  tepid.  The 
pulpit  in  such  a  church  makes  more  of  orthodoxy 
than  it  does  of  Christ.  It  is  immense  on  defini- 
tions. It  treats  of  justification  and  sanctification 
as  though  they  were  two  corpses  to  be  dissected. 
Its  sermons  all  have  a  black  morocco  cover,  which 
some  affectionate  sister  gave  the  pastor  before  he 
was  married,  to  wrap  his  discourse  in,  lest  it  get 
mussed  in  the  dust  of  the  pulpit.  Its  gestures  are 
methodical,  as  though  the  man  were  ever  con- 
scious that  they  had  been  decreed  from  all  eter- 
nity, and  he  were  afraid  of  interfering  with  the 
decree  by  his  own  free  agency. 

Such  a  pulpit  never  startles  the  people  with  the 
horrors  of  an  undone  eternity.  No  strong  meat, 
but  only  pap,  flour  and  water*  mostly  water.  The 
church  prayer-meeting  is  attended  only  by  a  few 
gray  heads  who  have  been  in  the  habit  of  going 
there  for  twenty  years,  not  because  they  expect 
any  arousing  time  or  rapturous  experiences,  but 
because  they  feel  only  a  few  will  be  there,  and 
they  ought  to  go. 

The  minister  is  sound.  The  membership  sound. 
The  music  sound.  If,  standing  in  a  city  of  a 
hundred  thousand  people,  there  are  five  or  t«n 
conversions  in  a  year,  everything  is  thought  to  be 
"encouraging."  But  Christ  says  that  such  a 
church  is  an  emetic,  ''Because  thou  art  neither 
cold  nor  hot,  I  will  spew  thee  out  of  my  mouth. " 

My  friends,  you  had  better  warm  up  or  freeze 
over.  Better  set  the  kettle  outside  in  the  atmos- 
phere at  zero,  or  put  it  on  the  altar  of  God  and 
stir  up  the  coals  into  a  blaze.  If  we  do  not,  God 
will  remove  us. 

Christian  men  are  not  always  taken  to  heaven 
as  a  reward,  but  sometimes  to  get  them  out  of  the 


3i6  Around  the  Tea-table. 

way  on  earth.  They  go  to  join  the  tenth -rate 
saints  in  glory ;  for  if  such  persons  think  they 
will  stand  with  Paul,  and  Harlan  Page,  and  Char- 
lotte Elizabeth,  they  are  much  mistaken. 

When  God  takes  them  up,  the  church  here  is 
better  off.  We  mourn  slightly  to  have  them  go, 
because  we  have  got  used  to  having  them  around, 
and  at  the  funeral  the  minister  says  all  the  good 
things  about  the  man  that  can  welf  be  thought  of, 
because  we  want  to  make  the  funeral  as  respect- 
able as  possible.  I  never  feel  so  much  tempted 
to  lie  as  when  an  inconsistent  and  useless  Chris- 
tian has  died,  and  I  want  in  my  final  remarks  to 
make  a  good  case  out  for  the  poor  fellow.  Still, 
it  is  an  advantage  to  have  such  a  man  get  out  of 
the  way.  He  is  opposed  to  all  new  enterprises. 
He  puts  back  everything  he  tries  to  help.  His 
digestion  of  religious  things  is  impaired,  and  his 
circulation  is  so  poor  that  no  amount  of  friction 
can  arouse  him. 

Now,  it  is  dangerous  for  any  of  you  to  stay  in 
that  condition.  If  you  cannot  be  moved,  God 
will  kill  you,  and  He  will  put  in  your  place  those 
who  will  do  the  work  you  are  neglecting. 

My  friends,  let  all  arouse  I  The  nearness  of  our 
last  account,  the  greatness  of  the  work  to  be  done, 
and  the  calls  of  God's  word  and  providence,  ought 
to  stir  our  souls.  After  having  been  in  the  harvest 
field  so  long  it  would  be  a  shame  in  the  nightfall 
of  death  to  go  home  empty-handed.  Gather  up 
a  few  gleanings  from  the  field,  and  beat  them  out, 
that  it  may  be  found  that  Ruth  had  at  least  "one 
ephah  of  barley. ' ' 


CHAPTER  LXVII. 
THORNS. 

The  Christian  world  has  long  been  guessing 
what  Paul's  thorn  in  the  flesh  was.  I  have  a  book 
that  in  ten  pages  tries  to  show  what  Paul's  thorn 
was  not,  and  in  another  ten  pages  tries  to  show 
what  it  was. 

Many  of  the  theological  doctors  have  felt  Paul's 
pulse  to  see  what  was  the  matter  with  him.  I 
suppose  that  the  reason  he  did  not  tell  us  what  it 
was  may  have  Ijeen  because  he  did  not  want  us  to 
know.  'He  knew  that  if  he  stated  what  it  was 
there  would  have  been  a  great  many  people  from 
Corinth  bothering  him  with  prescriptions  as  to 
how  he  might  cure  it. 

Some,  say  it  was  diseased  eyes,  some  that  it  was 
a  humped'  back.  It  may  have  been  neuralgia. 
Perhaps  it  was  gout,  although  his  active  habits 
and  a  sparse  diet  throw  doubt  on  the  supposition. 
Suttice  to  say  it  was  a  thorn — that  is,  it  stuck  him. 
It  was  sharp. 

It  was  probably  of  not  much  account  in  the  eyes 
of  the  world.  It  was  not  a  trouble  that  could  be 
compared  to  a  lion  or  a  boisterous  sea.  It  was  like 
a  thorn  that  you  may  have  in  your  hand  or  foot 
and  no  one  know  it.  Thus  we  see  that  it  becomes 
a  type  of  those  little  nettlesome  worries  of  life 
that  exasperate  the  spirit. 

Every  one  has  a  thorn  sticking  him.  The  house- 
keeper finds  it  in  unfaithful  domestics ;  or  an 
inmate  who  keeps  things  disordered  ;  or  a  house 
too  small  for  convenience  or  too  large  to  be  kept 
cleanly.  The  professional  man  finds  it  in  per- 
petual   interruptions  or   calls   for  "more  copy.'* 

317 


3i8  Around  the  Tea-table. 

The  Sabbath-school  teacher  finds  it  in  inattentive 
scholars,  or  neighboring  teachers  that  talk  loud 
and  make  a  great  noise  in  giving  a  little  instruc- 
tion. 

One  man  has  a  rheumatic  joint  which,  when 
the  wind  is  northeast,  lifts  the  storm  signal. 
Another  a  business  partner  who  takes  full  half 
the  profits,  but  does  not  help  earn  them.  These 
trials  are  the  more  nettlesome  because,  like  Paul's 
thorn,  they  are  not  to  be  mentioned.  Men  get 
sympathy  for  broken  bones  and  mashed  feet,  but 
not  for  the  end  of  sharp  thorns  that  have  been 
broken  off  in  the  fingers. 

Let  us  start  out  with  the  idea  that  we  must  have 
annoyances.  It  seems  to  take  a  certain  number  of 
them  to  keep  us  humble,  wakeful  and  prayerful. 
To  Paul  the  thorn  was  as  disciplinary  as  the  ship- 
wreck. If  it  is  not  one  thing,  it  is  another.  If 
the  stove  does  not  smoke,  the  boiler  must  leak. 
If  the  pen  is  good,  the  ink  must  be  poor.  If  the 
editorial  column  be  able,  there  must  be  a  typo- 
graphical blunder.  If  the  thorn  does  not  pierce 
the  knee,  it  must  take  you  in  the  back.  Life 
must  have  sharp  things  in  it.  We  cannot  make 
up  our  robe  of  Christian  character  without  pins 
and  needles. 

We  want  what  Paul  got — grace  to  bear  these 
things.  Without  it  we  become  cross,  censorious 
and  irascible.  We  get  in  the  habit  of  sticking 
our  thorns  into  other  people's  fingers.  But  God 
helping  us,  we  place  these  annoyances  in  the  cate- 
gory of  the  "all  things  that  work  together  for 
good."  We  see  how  much  shorter  these  thorns  are 
than  the  spikes  that  struck  through  the  palms  of 
Christ's  hands ;  and  remembering  that  he  had  on 
his  head  a  whole  crown  of  thorns,  we  take  to 
ourselves  the  consolation  that  if  we  suffer  with 
him  on  earth  we  shall  be  glorified  with  him  in 
heaven. 


Thorns.  319. 

But  how  could  Paul  positively  rejoice  in  these 
infirmities?  I  answer  that  the  school  of  Christ 
has  three  classes  of  scholars.  In  the  first  class  we 
learn  how  to  be  stuck  with  thorns  without  losing^ 
our  patience.  In  the  second  class  we  learn  how 
to  make  the  sting  positively  advantageous.  In 
the  third  class  of  this  school  we  learn  how  even 
to  rejoice  in  being  pierced  and  wounded,  but  that 
is  the  senior  class ;  and  when  we  get  to  that,  we- 
are  near  graduation  into  glory. 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 
WHO  TOUCHED  ME? 

There  is  nothing  more  unreasonable  and  ungov- 
ernable than  a  crowd  of  people.  Men  who  stand- 
ing alone  or  in  small  groups  are  deliberate  in  all 
they  do,  lose  their  self-control  when  they  come 
to  stand  in  a  crowd.  You  have  noticed  this,  if 
you  have  heard  a  cry  of  fire  in  a  large  assemblage, 
or  have  seen  people  moving  about  in  great  excite- 
ment in  some  mass-meeting,  shoving,  jostling  and 
pulling  at  each  other. 

But  while  the  Lord  Jesus  had  been  performing 
some  wonderful  works,  and  a  great  mob  of  people 
were  around  Him,  shoving  this  way  and  that  way, 
all  the  jostling  He  received  evoked  from  Him  no 
response. 

After  a  while  I  see  a  wan  and  wasted  woman 
pressing  through  the  crowd.  She  seems  to  have 
a  very  urgent  errand.  I  can  see  from  her  counte- 
nance that  she  has  been  a  great  sufferer.  She  comes 
close  enough  to  put  her  finger  on  the  hem  of 
Christ's  garment,  and  the  very  moment  she  puts 
her  finger  on  that  garment,  Jesus  says:  "Who 
touched^  me?" 

I  would  like  to  talk  to  you  of  the  extreme  sen- 
sitiveness of  Jesus.  It  is  very  often  the  case  that 
those  men  who  are  mighty,  have  very  little  fine- 
ness of  feeling;  but  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  was  the  King  of  glory,  hav- 
ing all  power  in  heaven  and  on  earth,  so  soon  as 
this  sick  woman  comes  up  and  puts  her  finger  on 
the  hem  of  His  garment,  that  moment  all  the 
feelings  of  His  soul  are  aroused,  and  He  cries 
out :  ' '  Who  touched  me  :*" ' 

320 


W/io  Touched  Me?  321 

I  remark  that  poverty  touches  Him.  The  Bible 
says  that  this  woman  had  spent  all  her  money  on 
physicians ;  she  had  not  got  the  worth  of  her 
money.  Those  physicians  in  Oriental  lands  were 
very  incompetent  for  their  work,  and  very  exor- 
bitant in  their  demands.  You  know  they'have  a 
habit  even  to  this  day  in  those  countries  of  mak- 
ing verj^  singular  charges.  Sometimes  they 
examine  the  capacity  of  the  person  to  pay,  and 
they  take  the  entire  estate. 

At  any  rate,  this  woman  spoken  of  in  the  text 
had  spent  her  money  on  physicians,  and  very  poor 
physicians  at  that.  The  Lord  saw  her  poverty 
and  destitution.  He  knew  from  what  a  miserable 
home  she  had  come.  He  did  not  ask,  "Who 
touched  me?"  because  He  did  not  know;  He 
wanted  to  evoke  that  woman's  response,  and  He 
wanted  to  point  all  the  multitude  to  her  particular 
case  before  her  cure  was  effected,  in  order  that 
the  miraculous  power  might  be  demonstrated 
before  all  the  people,  and  that  they  might  be 
made  to  believe. 

In  this  day,  as  then,  the  touch  of  poverty 
always  evokes  Christ's  attention.  If  you  be  one 
who 'has  had  a  hard  struggle  to  get  daily  bread — 
if  the  future  is  all  dark  before  you — if  you  are 
harassed  and  perplexed,  and  know  not  which  way 
to  turn,  I  want  you  to  understand  that,  althougli 
in  this  world  there  may  be  no  sympathy  for  you, 
the  heart  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Chri'st  is  immediately 
moved,  and  you  have  but  to  go  to  Him  and  touch 
Him  with  your  little  finger,  and  you  arouse  all 
the  sympathies  of  His  infinite  nature. 

I  also  learn  that  sickness  touches  Him.  She 
had  been  an  invalid  for  twelve  years.  How  many 
sleepless  nights,  what  loss  of  appetite,  what  ner- 
vousness, wdiat  unrest,  what  pain  of  body,  the 
world  knew  not.  But  when  she  came  up  and  put 
her  finger  on  Christ's  garment,  all  her  suffering 


322  Around  the  Tea-table, 

thrilled  through  the  heart  of  Christ  instanta- 
neously. 

When  we  are  cast  down  with  Asiatic  cholera  or 
yellow  fever,  we  cry  to  God  for  pity ;  but  in  the 
ailments  of  life  th'at  continue  from  day  to  day, 
month  to  month  and  year  to  year  are  you  in  the 
habit  of  going  to  Christ  for  sympathy?  Is  it  in 
some  fell  disaster  alone  that  you  call  to  God  for 
mercy,  or  is  it  in  the  little  aches  and  pains  of 
your' life  that  you  implore  Him?  Don't  try  to 
carry  these  burdens  alone.  These  chronic  diseases 
are  the  diseases  that  wear  out  and  exhaust  Chris- 
tian grace,  and  you  need  to  get  a  new  supply. 
Go  to  Him  this  night,  if  never  before,  with  all 
your  ailments  of  body,  and  say :  ' '  Lord  Jesus, 
look  upon  my  aches  and  pains. "  In  this  humble 
and  importunate  prayer  I  touch  thee. ' ' 

I  remark  further  that  the  Saviour  is  touched 
with  all  bereavements.  Perhaps  there  is  not  a 
single  room  in  your  house  but  reminds  you  of 
some  one  who  has  gone.  You  cannot  look  at  a 
picture  without  thinking  she  admired  that.  You 
cannot  see  a  toy  but  you  think  she  played  with 
it.  You  cannot  sit  down  and  put  your  lingers  on 
the  piano  without  thinking  she  used  to  handle 
this  instrument,  and  everything  that  is  beautiful 
in  your  home  is  suggestive  of  positive  sadness. 

draves  I  graves !  graves  I  It  is  the  history  of 
how  many  families  to-night!  You  measure  your 
life  from  tear  to  tear,  from  groan  to  groan,  from 
anguish  to  anguish,  and  sometimes  you  feel  that 
God  has  forsaken  you,  and  you  say,  * '  Is  His  mercy 
clean  gone  forever,  and  will  He  be  favorable  no 
more?" 

Can  it  be,  my  afflicted  friends,  that  you  have 
been  so  foolish  as  to  try  to  carry  the  burden 
alone,  when  there  is  an  almighty  arm  willing  to 
be  thrust  under  you?  Can  it  be  that  you  have 
traveled   that  desert  not  willing  to  drink  of  the 


Who  Touched  Me  ?  323 

fountains  that  God  opened  at  your  feet?  Oh, 
have  you  not  realized  the  truth  that  Jesus  is  sym- 
pathetic with  bereavement?  Did  He  not  mourn 
at  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  and  will  He  not  weep 
with  all  those  who  are  mourning  over  the 
dead? 

You  may  feel  faint  from  your  bereavements, 
and  you  may  not  know  which  way  to  turn,  and 
all  human  solace  may  go  for  nothing;  but  if  you 
would  this  night  with  your  broken  heart  just  go 
one  step  further  forward,  pressing  through  all  the 
crowd  of  your  perplexities,  anxieties  and  sorrows, 
you  might  with  one  finger  move  His  heart,  and 
He  would  say,  looking  upon  you  with  infinite 
comfort  and  compassion,  "Who  touched  me?" 

I  remark  that  all  our  sins  touch  Him,  It  is 
generally  the  fact  that  we  make  a  record  only  of 
those  sins  which  are  sins  of  the  action  ;  but  where 
there  is  one  sin  of  the  action  there  are  thousands 
of  thought.  Let  us  remember  that  God  puts  down 
in  His  book  all  the  iniquitous  thoughts  that  have 
ever  gone  through  your  souls.  There  they  stand 
— the  sins  of  1820  f  the  sins  of  1825  ;  all  the  sins 
of  18.31 ;  the  sins  of  1835 ;  the  sins  of  1840 ;  the 
sins  of  1846 ;  the  sins  of  1850 ;  the  sins  of  1853 ; 
the  sins  of  1859 ;  the  sins  of  1860 ;  the  sins  of 
1865 ;  the  sins  of  1870 ;  the  sins  of  1874,  Oh,  I 
can't  think  of  it  with  any  degree  of  composure. 
I  should  fly  in  terror  did.  I  not  feel  that  those 
sins  had  been  erased  by  the  hand  of  my  Lord 
Jesus  Christ — that  hand  which  was  wounded  for 
my  transgression. 

The  snow  falls  on  the  Alps  flake  by  flake,  and 
day  after  day,  and  month  after  month,  and  after 
a  while,  at  the  touch  of  a  traveler's  foot,  the  ava- 
lanche slides  down  upon  the  villages  with  terrific 
crash  and  thunder.  So  the  sins  of  our  life  accum- 
ulate and  pile  up,  and  after  a  while,  unless  we 
are  rescued  by  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus,  they 


324 


Around  the  Tea-table. 


will  come  down  upon  our  souls  in  an  avalanche  of 
eternal  ruin. 

When  we  think  of  our  sins,  we  are  apt  to  think 
of  those  we  have  recently  committed — those  sins 
of  the  past  day,  or  the  past  week,  or  the  past 
year ;  those  sins  that  have  been  in  the  far  distance 
^re  all  gone  from  our  memory.  You  can't  call  a 
half  dozen  of  them  up  in  your  mind.  But  God 
remembers  every  one  of  them.  There  is  a  record 
made  of  them.  They  will  be  your  overthrow 
unless  you  somehow  get  them  out  of  that  book. 

In  the  great  day  of  judgment,  God  will  call  the 
roll,  and  they  will  all  answer,  "here!"  "here!" 
*  *  here  1 ' ' 

Oh,  how  they  have  wounded  Jesus!  Did  He 
not  come  into  this  world  to  save  us?  Have  not 
these  sins  been  committed  against  the  heart  and 
mercy  of  our  Lord  Jesus?  Sins  committed  against 
us  by  an  enemy  we  can  stand ;  but  by  a  friend, 
how  hard  it  is  to  bear  I  Have  we  not  wounded 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  the  house  of  His  friends? 

Since  we  stood  up  in  the  presence  of  the  great 
congregation  and  attested  our  love  for  Christ  and 
said  from  this  time  we  will  serve  the  Lord,  have 
we  not  all  been  recreant?  Have  we  not  gone 
astrav  like  lost  sheep,  and  there  is  no  health  in 
us?  'Oh,  they  touch  Christ ;  they  have  touched 
Him  on  the  tenderest  spot  of  His  heart. 

Let  us  bemoan  this  treatment  of  our  best  friend. 
It  seems  to  me  Christ  was  never  so  lovely  as  He 
is  now — the  chief  among  ten  thousand  and  the 
one  altogether  lovely.  Why  can't  you  come  and 
put  your  trust  in  Him?  HeHs  an  infinite  Saviour. 
He  can  take  all  the  iniquities  of  your  life  and 
cast  them  behind  His  back.  Blessed  is  the  nian 
who  has  obtained  His  forgiveness,  and  whose  sins 
^re  covered ! 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


B     000  003  184     9 


